Harm's Way
by Eirian1
Summary: With the team still trapped in what remains of Michael's compound, and Teyla still in Michael's hands, Colonel Carter must hurry to rescue them before the game of 'Lantean in the middle' takes an even more deadly turn. Virtual Season 5, Episode 1
1. Act 1

Author's disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis and its associated characters. MGM does, for which, for the most part, they have my utmost respect. No copyright infringement is intended in writing these stories.

My deepest respect also goes to the talented actors that brought to life the characters we see in Stargate Atlantis. My portrayal of the characters here is based on my perception of the work of Joe Flanigan, Jason Momoa, Rachel Luttrell, Paul McGillion, David Hewlett, Amanda Tapping, Robert Picardo and Connor Trinneer. Without these people and those that came before them, there would have been no Atlantis as we know it today.

Other assorted original characters (i.e. those that don't really appear in the show) are my own creation, and they, along with the original material presented here are © Eirian Phillips 2008.

Story is rated for mature readers, according to whatever rating system is adopted these days for Fan Fiction. It changes on a site by site basis... It was so much easier way back when...

There may be other virtual seasons of SGA out there in cyberspace. Some may even be unofficially official. However, as a writer, I don't believe that this should discourage others from having their own ideas about things. Mine are presented here.

I can be reached by Email. Feedback is always welcome and Emails are usually answered.

Characters and events are purely fictitious, and any similarity to anyone living, transformed, dead, cloned or in any alternate universe or timeline is entirely coincidental.

**Harm's Way**

No One Is Left Behind

_"Things didn't exactly go well for us after your disappearance. Once I figured out what had happened to you I realised there was nothing that we could do. The Air Force pronounced you KIA, gave you a… a very nice… military funeral back on Earth. Obviously the casket was empty, but erm, you know, it's the thought that counts. From there… well… from there things went from bad to worse. We kept searching for Teyla, but… we just didn't have the resources to cover enough ground. It took us two months before we finally found her… in one of Michael's hideouts… but by then it was too late. She'd had the baby. I guess… after that… he didn't have any use for her any more. So he killed her." _

Hologram of Rodney McKay – The Last Man

**Previously on Stargate Atlantis:**

The instant the cool of the event horizon left him, and he was enveloped by the organic warmth of the Atlantis Gate Room, he found himself surrounded by the ever alert security teams, all aiming P90s in his direction. In their midst stood Colonel Carter and the once more youthful, but frowning figure of Doctor Rodney McKay.

"Whoa!" Sheppard spread his arms, raising his hands to placate the marines. "Whoa."

"John…" Sam Carter greeted him, sounding as confused as Rodney looked.

"Colonel…" he couldn't help but look around. He looked up toward the control room, at the many bubbling pylons that supported the structure of the gate room. Relief and amazement flooded him at the same instant. "It worked. It worked, Rodney, you're a genius."

"Okay," the scientist agreed as Samantha frowned in deeper confusion.

"John, what happened?" she asked.

"How much time has gone by?" he answered with the question that was pressing.

"You've been missing for twelve days."

"Twelve days," he repeated, mostly to himself, "Twelve days is okay; she wouldn't have had her baby yet. Look…" he barely stopped to catch his breath before he looked up at the colonel and told her, "I know this sounds kinda weird but we're on the clock."

"John, what are you talking about?" Carter asked, starting to sound a little frustrated as well as confused.

"I know where Teyla is," he said urgently as the three team members exchanged glances of worried shock.

**

Holding herself up by sheer force of will against the weight of the many truths that began to resolve themselves in her mind Teyla shifted her gaze from the face of her once childhood friend to meet the almost fervent expression of strength she both saw and felt coming from Michael.

"I reached across ten thousand light years and touched your mind," he said.

A small tremor, a knot of something that was not quite fear, not quite excitement and was mixed with something approaching need, began to radiate from deep in her belly. She could not quite bring herself to acknowledge what that might mean for her, but nor could she entirely deny what Michael was saying, no matter how much she looked between him, and the man who had fathered her son.

"There is more of a bond between us than you know," Michael continued, "Once the child is born the bond will grow even stronger."

The knot in her belly tightened.

**

Beside him, Major Lorne pushed open the door. Even before he could fully take in what he saw of the contents of the room, Sheppard's voice sounded in his ear.

_"Rodney, you got anything?"_

"Hold on," he answered, as he keyed his communication earpiece and then moved, cautiously, further into the room. "Yeah… yeah, I got some kind of… a… of a data terminal." His eyes moved quickly back and forth over the web-like fibres that lent an almost organic appearance to the machinery in front of him. "Let me see if I can power it up and hack in." He hated the feel of the membranous cavity that housed the buttons and switches and shuddered as his fingers moved around from one place to another as he attempted to get Michael's equipment to work for him… but Teyla's life was at stake, and if what Sheppard said was true, so was the future of the entire galaxy. He almost jumped when Sheppard's voice cut across his thoughts.

_"McKay, we got something."_

"What is it?" he asked breathlessly, without stopping, as power began to flow to the controls and they responded with audible feedback as he pushed them in what he hoped was the proper sequence.

_"Some twisted version of a maternity ward… I think we're too early though, but he's gonna bring her here to have the baby."_

**

She had no rational argument against what he was saying. Even though the gentle side of her nature screamed at her to deny it, everything he was saying wrapped around her, threatening to suffocate her in the dark comfort of its veracity. Fear of the thoughts and feelings that were welling inside of her rose and as she tried to push them away – find her equilibrium again – she grasped at the only words of which she could make sense… words that in that moment she thought applied equally to her as they did to Michael.

"You're insane!"

She saw the fleeting pass of hurt flash across his eyes, and watched as he swallowed. She tried with all of her resolve to keep a hold of the anger, and not to let his reaction to her words reach inside of her to the place somewhere in her belly, where the knot of breathlessness still dwelled and replace it with compassion, but it was hard, and the ugly, angry expression she had fixed on her face began to fade.

Michael twitched his head upward and took a breath, the hurt still there in his face as he shifted his eyes first right then down before he met her gaze again.

"Spite me all you want," he swallowed again, and continued softly but with a firm, concerned tone, "but don't do it at the expense of the child."

Teyla glanced downward, as if his mention of her son reminded her that he still rested in her belly, relying on her for safety. Fear swelled again, and hard on its heels the anger at all that was happening. She shook her head almost imperceptibly and with a strength that she did not entirely feel said, "My child…" her voice cracked as she spoke, seeing him lower his gaze to take in the curve of her pregnant belly, but she forced herself to go on, "…is of no concern to you."

He lifted his gaze to capture hers once more, and replied with an almost chilling calm. "On the contrary…"

**

Rodney glanced at Sheppard as he gave him the order to take up his part in the conversation with the Wraith. He found the entire matter distasteful. In spite of Sheppard's propensity for giving these creatures names, probably in an attempt to make them seem less threatening, a Wraith by any other name was still as deadly and this one, Todd, was even creepier than the average life-sucking alien.

"One of our people… Teyla… was taken by a dart today," McKay said.

Without blinking, Todd answered, "Then I suppose she's already made some lucky Wraith a very tasty meal."

"This was no culling," he argued. "She was targeted. Someone set a trap."

"And you suspect this…" Todd jerked his gaze, insect-like back to regard Sheppard, "…what do you call him… Michael?"

**

Confusion gave way to a sick feeling as she realised what his mention of reunion meant. "My people… you took them." A frown creased her face. Never had she imagined that he could have been the one responsible. Anyone else… the Wraith, but… not Michael… His tipped his head momentarily to the side, confirming her suspicions. She felt a strange sensations of hope… that soon drained away to be replaced by anger. "Where are they?" she demanded, stepping up to the bars, but still not able to look at him. "What have you done with them?"

"They're alive and well," he told her even before she had finished the question, "and working with me toward the common goal we all share."

"What are you talking about?" She was breathless; felt as though she was suffocating from the implications of everything that was revealed to her in that moment. This time she met his eyes… saw the hurt and anger burning there as he took the four steps that brought him within arms reach of the web of bars that separated each of them from the other.

"The extermination of the Wraith," he said slowly, never once taking his eyes from hers.

**

Ronon knelt beside one of the fallen Wraith, checking for life signs, but he already knew they were dead. Their pallid greenish-white flesh looked even more clammy than usual and their open, catlike eyes retained the ghost of their pain, even in death.

"Well," Sheppard said and pushed his foot against a second of the Wraith, just to be sure, "they're dead."

"There's no marks on 'em," he confirmed, looking up at Sheppard.

"That's because they were poisoned." The third voice had them spinning around, each one of them, McKay included, raised their guns to bear as Todd stepped from around one of the many turns in the passageways of the Wraith ship. "And I suspect… you already know how."

**

"I'm building an army that will soon replace them as the dominant race in this galaxy." Michael's eyes locked with hers as he spoke with quiet, but fervent confidence, of his plans.

"An army of monsters," she said. Teyla recalled, not without a shudder of distaste, the creatures she and the others had encountered when they had searched for the missing Taranan people.

"I'll admit my early attempts were a little… crude." He blinked and she fixed him with an expression of growing understanding, and more than just a little trepidation. "But that's all changed now. I've refined the retrovirus to create the perfect balance. Ability well beyond any normal human, but without… the one weakness that will be the downfall of the Wraith."

She flicked her eyes down to where his hand barely moved. It could have been an unconscious gesture on his part, but she couldn't be sure. She looked up once more to meet his gaze. He held her eyes for a moment, before he too looked down at his right hand, raising it under his inspection, before turning it so that she could clearly see his unblemished palm. Teyla somehow managed to keep her inhaled breath to something less than a gasp as Michael confirmed her suspicions.

"The need to feed," he said.

"It was you." In spite of herself the shock made its way to her face. "You're the one responsible for spreading the Hoffan drug."

**

"I brought you here because… I need your help."

Sheppard scrutinised Todd's face, searching for any sign of duplicity on the part of the Wraith. Finding none didn't mean he was going to trust him, but it did perhaps mean they might have some kind of leverage, should they need it. He glanced over at Rodney, who was looking at Todd in something approaching horrified contempt.

"I'm aware you had a hand in helping the Hoffans refine this drug," Todd continued. Sheppard leaned on the butt of his P90, affecting an indifferent air to try and give nothing away. "I require whatever research you possess in order that I may synthesise a cure for my Hive and my Hive alone."

"That's not gonna happen," he said with more than a little sarcasm.

**

"Hold on… I'm in." McKay moved to look in growing excitement at the data terminal that was now displaying information in Wraith characters across its monitor. "Whoa! Jackpot!"

_"What have you got?"_

"I got everything. I got gate addresses, I've got subspace communication codes," he gestured toward the codes streaming across the screen as though Sheppard could see through his eyes. "I've even got his research into the hybrids." He turned to Major Lorne with an astonished smile on his face. "He's history…"

**

Teyla forced herself to look away from the monitor, where Michael was showing her the image of her child… swallowing down the mixed emotions she felt she asked urgently, "Why are you doing this?"

Michael turned off the scanning device and moved to another terminal, only just in sight, no matter how much she tried to keep him within her line of vision.

"On the ship, Kanaan said our son would serve the cause." She listened for a moment to the sounds of Michael working at the console. "What did he mean by that…?"

"…He is genetically unique…" he said softly as he returned to her side, "and while I've made a lot of progress with my hybrids there are still some details that need to be worked out."

Looking into his eyes, and he into hers, she tilted her head, the deepest frown on her brow, but was conflicted by the genuine lack of menace toward her son she clearly felt from him. Forcing herself to grasp the fading edge of suspicion she narrowed her eyes.

"This child," he nodded toward her pregnant belly before concluding, "will help me do that."

A thousand questions flooded through her, and she tried to find a place to begin, but Michael turned away from her, crossed toward a bench where equipment and several small vials were placed.

"You've taken good care of him," he told her as he picked up a syringe and one of the vials containing a green serum. "You should be very proud." Carefully he inserted the long needle into the vial and drew some of the liquid into the syringe. "Even so… you could probably use a little help."

**

"What do you care about my wellbeing?" she asked angry in the face of his apparent concern.

"I care a great deal," he answered without looking at her. The resigned almost bewildered look of hurt still lingered on his face as he looked up to meet the confused expression that momentarily creased her brow. "I may not be foolish enough to consider us friends, but… we do have a history." She couldn't take her eyes from his as she listened to his words, the frown deepened as if she were trying to make sense of them, "And even though you've betrayed me repeatedly you're still the only one, Human or Wraith, who's ever come close to understanding what I've been through."

"Really?" she asked, tremulously, trying to deny his words.

"We're not that different, Teyla." He tilted his head, impassive but for his eyes, which bore into her, as though compelling her to understand… to believe once more. "You're a Human with Wraith DNA; a hybrid, just like me."

"I'm no murderer…"

_Keller watched horrified as one of their Bola Kai assailants began to get to his feet. She was more than a little relieved to hear Teyla's footsteps as the Athosian woman came to rejoin her. _

_"That one's dead, but… he's still alive," she said fearfully. _

_Teyla snatched the long knife, with which Keller had been trying to protect herself, and without breaking stride, descend on the man; slaying him with a single stroke of the blade. Looking on her kill, Teyla threw down the knife. _

_"We cannot afford to take prisoners," she said. _

Once more he tilted his head, challenging her to deny him again. "You kill to protect yourself and your own, so do I. Of course circumstances require me to do it on a slightly larger scale, but the principle is still the same."

**

With a sound like the popping of an old valve television set, the monitor snapped back into blackness, all save for a single Wraith character in the lower right corner that changed with each passing second.

"No, no, no…" he questioned the screen. "No, no, no, no, no. What happened?"

"What's that?" Lorne stepped up behind him and pointed to the changing character, the concern in his voice making it more than clear that the marine already suspected what it was.

"Oh no!" Rodney straightened up and slowly began to turn.

"Doc?" Lorne asked urgently, pressing for confirmation.

"It's a countdown," McKay answered breathlessly.

From around the compound, the sounds of small explosions began, first one, and then another… and another after that.

"Colonel, it's a booby trap," Lorne called out, as a deep rumbling began, and the walls of the compound began to tremble. "We gotta get outa here, now!"

McKay followed him quickly toward the door, but neither man made it before the supportive steel girders came crashing down across the doorway, cutting off their escape. The two of them kept their heads low, trying to avoid the falling debris, trying to see through the rising dust; to find a path through the partially blocked doorway, but both were forced to take shelter when the fall of masonry from the ceiling increased until, with a sound as though they were in the centre of the biggest thunder cloud and the percussive press of what must have been a dozen separate explosions, likely more, the world he knew dissolved into the comfortless black of oblivion.

***

_"You should have run when you had the chance, but you let your feelings get in the way."_

Michael – The Kindred

**Act 1**

Unable to explain the nagging unease that had assaulted her the entire time that Colonel Sheppard and his team had been away, Sam Carter paced back and forth from her office to the main control room.

"Anything?" she asked on the third such pass.

"Colonel," Zelenka looked up from his tablet and pushed up his spectacles. "Everything was fine when they checked in. I'm sure that if they'd found anything they would have let us know."

She turned to look at him, and around at the others in the control room, whose faces all showed the same resigned patience at her pacing as did his.

"I know what you're doing, Radek," she told him, "and I appreciate the gesture b—"

"I'm sure they're fine," he said, regarding her from beneath raised eyebrows. She was about to reply when the sonorous tones of the alarm sounded in accompaniment to the rasping hum of energy that passed around the ring of the gate, activating the chevrons one by one.

"Incoming wormhole," one of the controllers announced somewhat redundantly as a second later the muted rush of the singularity's energy collided with the translucent energy shield that was automatically raised to prevent hostile incursions. Sam felt as though they were all holding their breath until the party responsible for dialling the gate was known. "Receiving identification - It's Lieutenant Edison's IDC."

"Lower the shield," Carter ordered and just a second after the shield dissipated, Edison practically fell from the event horizon, stumbling a few steps before his legs buckled under him and he slumped to his knees.

"Or not," Radek Zelenka muttered under his breath as he moved beside her to hurry down the steps toward the Lieutenant.

"Get a medical team," she called over her shoulder, kneeling with Radek to support the injured marine until Doctor Keller or her team could reach them.

"Failsafe," the man gasped, already struggling to rise.

"Take it easy," Sam tried to stop him from moving too much, while at the same time trying to guess from his appearance just what had befallen him, and presumably the other members of the off-world teams. "Just tell me what happened."

"Whole damn building came down around our ears," he answered, his voice broken by many gasping breaths.

Behind her, Sam identified the rattle of a medical gurney being wheeled toward them, and before she could ask him to explain what he meant, Doctor Keller pressed a hand against her shoulder to move her aside and began to perform a triage assessment of the marine's injuries.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, but the debriefing will have to wait," Jennifer told her, an urgent tone in her voice, "I need to get this man to the infirmary."

Sam shook her head, "Colonel Sheppard may not have _time_ to wait," she said, rising to accompany Doctor Keller and her patient.

**

Ronon moaned. Breathing was difficult because of the painful weight that pressed him to the rubble beneath him. It lay across his back like a heat against his skin where his shirt had torn. With a growl he shifted enough to get his hands under him and turn his head to see what was pinning him to the ground.

A heavy steel roof support entered his line of vision as he craned his neck to one side. It was partly resting on a large chunk of masonry, and he suspected it was only that which had saved him from what would have been a fatal crushing blow had it connected fully with his back. If he could somehow shuffle his way toward that piece of fallen ceiling perhaps he would be able to free himself. Slowly, muscle by muscle he began checking himself for injuries; for anything that might stop him from getting out.

"Ronon…?" Sheppard's faint voice interrupted his darkening thoughts.

"I swear," he grimaced as a thread of pain wound itself around his shoulder when he began to drag himself sideways across debris strewn floor toward the raised end of the beam, "I'm going to hunt him down and tear him apart with my bare hands." Gathering himself against the bite of his injuries, snarling to push the pain away as he moved, he began to worm his way free. "No more stun!"

He heard Sheppard chuckle, and suspected that there was little mirth in the gesture. The chuckle dissolved into a rasping cough, little surprise as there was still so much dust in the air, but still it worried him. He couldn't see his friend to be sure that he was all right.

"You okay?" Sheppard asked, as if he could tell what he was thinking.

"Think so," he answered, hissing as he scraped his hands on a sharp piece of masonry that lay between him and freedom. "Banged up pretty bad, but I don't think anything's broken. You?"

"Caught my head against something in the main explosion," Sheppard said. "Haven't tried to move much because the room just won't stay still. You know how it is?"

He recognised that Sheppard was using sarcasm to put a brave face on an entirely screwed up situation and worried that his friend was perhaps worse off than he was saying so he redoubled his efforts to extricate himself from beneath the girder. He snarled as he once more caught the raw skin of his back on the rough metal against which he was struggling, and kept in his mind the images of his friends… Teyla suffering and the rest of them trapped… injured, for all he knew bleeding and dying… _limb from limb_, he promised himself.

"Take it easy, Ronon," Sheppard said quietly against the sounds of Ronon's struggles. "We're trapped under an entire building's worth of rubble. How much worse can it get?"

He paused for a moment and looked over in the direction of Sheppard's voice. He wasn't a superstitious man, but questions like that, he knew, should never be asked when things looked as bleak as they did. "You just _had_ to, didn't you?" he said worriedly and renewed his efforts for freedom.

"No seriously," Sheppard went on, "Michael isn't here. We've gotta be overdue by now. Atlantis will send a team to investigate. They'll get us out, no problem. Even now I'll bet Carter is mobilising a search and rescue team. We'll be fine. What more could there be?"

**

"How many are there?"

Michael strode across the bridge of the cruiser to take the place of one of his hybrids that moved aside for him without a word. His eyes narrowed and he frowned as he read the telemetry coming in from the sensors aimed toward the facility he'd chosen as his preferred site for Teyla to deliver the child.

"Two small teams," another of his men reported what he could now see for himself, "penetrated into the heart of the compound."

"Of course they did." He tilted his head back a little, peering at the sensor readings and tried to pinpoint their exact locations within the base as he also tried to discover which of them were still alive. "I wouldn't expect anything else from Colonel Sheppard and his men."

For many long minutes he stood watching the data scrolling across the screen of his console. Circumstances and timing told him he should just turn the ship around and head to his secondary location, but a shiver of realisation of what had likely happened made him hesitate. He could not risk that someone survived that had seen and understood something that they should not, not when he had taken such care to protect his work. He took in a deep breath… his irritated sigh hissing outward as he considered his options. Even as he began to formulate a contingency, one of his hybrids spoke again.

"Someone is activating the ring of the ancestors."

"They will be going to bring help." The calm in is voice belied the added irritation he felt. It meant he would have to act quickly; would have less time for consideration before he had to proceed. His choices, however, were simple. He could either take action to ensure that there would be nothing left for a rescue team to discover and thus ensure the continued safety of all he had planned, or he could wait and see what unfolded. For all he knew that the choice should have been an easy one to make, he could not help but hesitate to give the order to fire on what was left of the compound.

**

Rodney McKay moaned… certain he was dead… or dying. Definitely dy_ing_, because being dead wouldn't hurt quite as much as he did, he was sure of it. He tried to move, and couldn't, at least not without shifting dust and debris from on top of him and he was afraid of what else might be lodged there, keeping him seconds away from death.

On the other hand, choking on the settling dust was just as injurious to his continuing survival… as unlikely as that was. He took a deep breath, and then held it again as the rubble shifted around him. He tried to focus, to remember where he'd been exactly when the roof had fallen in on them and where the others had been. Then he remembered Lorne.

"Major," he whispered as though he didn't dare disturb the area any more with the sound of his voice, but when Lorne didn't answer, he repeated himself in a louder, raspy tone. "Major Lorne?"

The Major still didn't answer and the last thing McKay could remember was that Lorne had been trying to find a way for them to get through the blocked doorway; had called out a warning to him when the explosions had come nearer and then… he swallowed, remembering the cascade of concrete that had swallowed the marine, before taking his own feet out from under him. Finally Rodney opened his eyes.

"Oh God!" he said as his eyes took in the devastation that surrounded him. "Oh God, no."

A sudden thought crossed his mind and he reached up to his ear, to where his radio earpiece should have been, but it had been knocked away by one of the many chunks of masonry. He winced, and touched a sore spot behind his ear, and moaned again as his fingers came away sticky and wet with blood.

"Get a grip, Rodney," he told himself, "think!"

Slowly, carefully he shifted enough to get his elbows under his back, and lever himself into a semi-sitting position. He stifled the sounds of pain as bricks and pieces of concrete and metal shrapnel slipped and skidded over him, and over each other sending puffs of dust into the already laden air. His left arm screamed in protest of his weight, and he felt a trail of blood make its way toward his wrist and he pushed himself to a more upright, sitting position with his other arm. He added that to the inventory of injuries and then continued to look around, visually searching for Major Lorne.

Not that he could see very much. Between the darkness caused by the collapse and the particles of concrete dust it was a surprise to him that he could see as far as he could. Still he had to try. Judging from his own injuries the Major could only possibly be worse.

**

"All right, people, listen up!" Sam called everyone to attention as the members of the rescue team gathered in the Jumper bay. She had decided, after listening to Edison's report, that it would be safer to take the Jumpers. That way, if anything happened, for instance if Michael and his forces arrived, they would have an outside chance of defending themselves while they got their people out.

She looked around as the hum of voices dwindled away. People were gripping P90s as though they were lifelines. The nervous energy filling the bay was a tangible reminder of the fact that her most experienced teams were the ones currently trapped in what was left of Michael's base.

Her eyes drifted over to where Radek was still deep in earnest conversation with a group of engineers. The three men and two women looked weighted down by the body armour she'd insisted everyone wear. They were among many of the Atlantis expedition unused to setting foot off world, and she regretted forcing them outside of their comfort zone, but the truth of it was she knew she needed every able body she could get.

"Everyone," she called again, and this time all eyes turned her way. "From the report that Lieutenant Edison was able to provide, both teams were caught inside the main building when the explosion was triggered, and very few, if any at all, were able to make it beyond the perimeter, in fact, it's a miracle that Edison was able to make it out at all."

"That would be because the explosive charges were set in a ring around the supporting walls," Radek made a circling gesture with his left hand around his right. "Very effective, actually," he went on, "It would have completely devastated the structural integrity of the building, taking out the supporting external walls and letting the building… collapse under its own weight." He had been there, beside her, as Sam had listened to Edison's halting debriefing. "We're almost certainly going to have to put in braces as we work our way into the rubble to get to our people."

Sam nodded. "It's imperative we don't endanger ourselves during the rescue efforts, or put Colonel Sheppard's team in further jeopardy, but at the same time, we're working under time constraints. Firstly we have no idea if, or when, Michael will arrive and from what Colonel Sheppard and the others reported prior to this mission, he has a Wraith cruiser at his disposal. I have no doubts that if he does reach his base and find us there, he'll have no compunction against launching a further attack in order to protect whatever agenda he's working to. Secondly, we can only guess at the kinds of injuries our people will have sustained, or the severity of them. We only know that we need to get them medical attention, and we need to get it to them quickly." She nodded to Doctor Keller who took over instruction from a medical point of view.

"The most important thing I can tell any of you is to try not to move anyone, or to let anyone move too much once you find them," she instructed, "until one of us can make a triage assessment. Hopefully there'll be more walking wounded that we think there'll be," she added, giving Sam the kind of smile that spoke of the doubt that belied her words. "Each team will be equipped with a full field medical kit. This will help the medics who'll be able to move much more quickly if they're not hauling their own kits. We'll be putting spare kits in the Jumpers, make sure you keep adequate supplies, even if that means sending runners."

"And whatever you do," Sam interrupted, repeating herself again, "don't put yourselves in danger. It won't help Sheppard's team if we start having to deal with our own injuries. Let the engineers assess any areas you're not sure of. Questions?"

After a moment or two of silence, she nodded, and ordered her personnel into their assigned Jumpers.

**

Bleeding, the skin newly scraped from his back and the backs of his thighs, Ronon finally managed to find his feet, though not without a good deal of discomfort, which he pushed aside with another growl and shuffled a little unsteadily toward where Sheppard half sat, half lay propped against a pile of rubble. Sheppard was dangerously close to where a number of steel reinforcing rods were exposed on the edge of a concrete block.

The closer Ronon got to Sheppard the deeper the frown on his brow, until at last it found verbal expression as he said, "John…"

Sheppard laughed a little unsteadily, "Now I know it's bad." he said and coughed, as Ronon lowered himself carefully to his knees at his side.

"Try not to move," Ronon told his friend and leaned a little closer to inspect the offending metal spike emerging, a red tipped poker, from Sheppard's shoulder.

"It missed the bone," Sheppard told him, "At least it feels that way," then he winced, and swore loudly as Ronon examined, as gently as he could, the site of the wound.

"I think you're right," he agreed at last.

"You?" Sheppard waved toward him with a tired gesture.

"Don't worry about me," he said, still looking his friend over. He looked pale, a little grey. "We should find you something for the pain."

Sheppard glanced around them both. "Be my guest," he said. At least his wry sense of humour was intact. Ronon might have laughed a little in relief, but a soft creaking sound had his head swivel; searching quickly for the source of the noise, and finally coming to rest on a fallen section of the roof that perched precariously on a crossways beam almost directly above where John was pinned like some specimen butterfly.

"Crap," he said.

"Now you get it," Sheppard told him, mockingly cheerful.

"We have to move you."

"You and I both know there's only one way to do that." Sheppard drew his eyes back to the metal rod sticking out of his shoulder. "And Keller will kill us," he added, "If what's left of the building doesn't get there first.

Growling in frustration, Ronon climbed to his feet and began an almost frantic search of the rubble around them, nearby to where he had ended up trapped under the beam.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sheppard interrupted his angry searching. He sounded tired, resigned, but Ronon wasn't about to give up on his friend just yet. Just as he turned, ready to unleash a tirade about not giving up, and some of the places to which Keller could take herself if she thought he was about to let someone he cares about die under a ton of falling masonry, he spotted the object of his search. It was lying several feet away from either of them, and must have flown from his hand when he fell. As quickly as he could, he crossed to where his weapon lay, and picked it up. He turned it over in his hand to give it a visual inspection and, not that he would have been lost if it had been damaged beyond repair, he felt the warmth of relief spread from the touch of the grip against his palm. It began easing the tension and pain in his muscles. Or perhaps, he thought as he turned back to face Sheppard and raised the weapon in his hand, it was just another rush of adrenaline.

"Ronon…"

Without waiting to hear the protest about to come out of John Sheppard's mouth he squeezed the trigger. He watched the energy from the weapon wrap itself around Sheppard, barely moving him before extinguishing his conscious awareness.

"I promise I'll let you hit me, one time, for free when we're sparring next," he told his unconscious friend, then before he lost his nerve he crossed the room again to kneel beside Sheppard, and in spite of knowing the risk of doing so, fearing the greater risk from above, he took hold of John's shoulder and in one swift motion pulled it from the impaling spike. He took just a moment to tear a wide strip from the bottom if his shirt to make a bandage of sorts. He knew it wasn't clean, but it was better than Sheppard bleeding to death, and anyway, once Atlantis got them out of this mess, Keller's medicine would more than cope with any effects of the dirt, but the creaking from above told him it wouldn't have the opportunity to do that unless they moved.

He barely had Sheppard onto his shoulder, and out of the area, when the huge block of masonry fell, and the shockwave of its impact took his feet from under him again.

**

His concern increased exponentially as he continued to read the incoming sensor telemetry. One of the figures in the room that he knew had contained his data was more than just the faint life reading he saw from the other, and though he could not know exactly who it might have been, an unauthorised access from the terminal had been one of the triggers for his failsafe device. But how much had they seen?

By now there were Lantean life signs swarming all over the mound of broken concrete and damaged buildings that had once been one of his primary bases as they sought to rescue their trapped and wounded.

A flare of anger cut through the concern. They should have stayed away. They should have known the danger in coming after him, after what they had done… with a wry inward laugh, though outwardly stoic he cut off his mental tirade. Or course they would come… and would not leave him alone until they had Teyla… until they believed he was no longer a threat… until he could be of no further use to them. Such was their way and had always been their way.

One carefully placed shot… for just a moment his hand hovered over the console… and rested there, dangerous potential in the flex of his muscles, in the contact of his mind with the ships neural interface.

No. He was not naïve enough to think that by the simple destruction of these people, he would be free of their interference. Others would come, and while Colonel Sheppard and his people were an annoyance, at least they were known to him… at least he could predict their actions, and perhaps, use _them_ as they had him. The thought did not, however, entirely quell his concern for what they had seen. His plan must succeed and he could not allow them too much of an insight into the steps he meant to take to ensure his survival, and dominance over the Pegasus galaxy.

Quietly lowering his hand to the console, he let his mind slip into unity with the cruiser and adjusted the target lock, on the ship's weapons.

"Monitor communications on the planet's surface," he instructed. "Summon me immediately there is any chatter concerning my research."

He did not need to wait for a response to his instructions, well aware that he had been heard, and would be obeyed. He turned on his heels and headed for the cruiser's newly installed laboratory. Whatever happened, whatever his decision in the end, they would have to move again. He needed to ensure that Teyla and the child were well enough to make another hyperspace jump.

**

The first thing Sheppard noticed, besides the persistent throbbing behind his eyes, was that he was lying flat. The second was that his shoulder was roughly bound and hurt like hell… and thirdly…

"You didn't even check to see if it was on stun!" he protested, trying to sit up.

"Get over it," Ronon quipped back, and for a moment the Satedan's almost light hearted response caught him off guard, until he noticed a small shaft of light filtering through the dust that hadn't been there before.

"Is that…?"

"Yep," Ronon finally turned around from staring impatiently at a section of the collapsed wall through which the light was pushing its way in. "Arrived about twenty minutes ago. They say it's slow going because the engineering team have to put in supports as they go."

"You know this…?" he must have hit his head harder than he thought. Either that or he was confused through loss of blood from where Ronon had damn near ripped his shoulder off.

Ronon held up the radio, "Managed to get it to work for all of a few minutes before it shorted out or something." He tossed the useless piece of equipment his way and Sheppard instinctively raised his injured arm to try and catch it. The movement sent a new wave of fire through the whole of his body and he couldn't help but cry out, bringing Ronon quickly to his side. "I told 'em to get a message to Jennifer. She'll be one of the first through when they can. Don't worry."

Under normal circumstances he might have teased the big man for the use of the doctor's first name or at the very least for the serious level of concern he was showing, but truth be told, he appreciated the gesture more than he would ever let on. "With you watching my back," he answered quietly, "how could I worry?"

"Yeah, right."

He could see that he hadn't fooled Ronon, not even a little, and didn't much like to think how close the two of them had come on this occasion. He would have said something more, but Ronon shook his head.

"Rest," the big Satedan told him, letting a hand come to rest against his uninjured shoulder.

**

A small sound escaped her as she held her breath against the intense discomfort of the needle he carefully withdrew from her abdomen. Not until he caught hold of her sleeve to bring her hand to cover the swab against the injection site did she let out the breath, in a rush that became his name.

"Michael...!"

"I told you," he turned away to set down the equipment in his hand, before turning back to look down at her; to shift her hand away from the swab with barely the whisper of a touch, and make sure that he had been careful enough in his treatment of both of them. "Because of the interference of your friends, we must make another hyperspace jump, and I will not allow the subspace radiation to harm him."

"We are fine," she told him, starting to sit up.

"Wait."

_-wait- -wait-_

The telepathic echo of his instruction pushed against her mind, and halted her movement. She slapped her hand against the side of the table on which he had her, and growled at him. "Don't!"

"If you refuse to take sufficient care of yourself I shall be forced to use the restraints again," he looked unwaveringly into her eyes, as seriously as he had ever done so, and it did not take the growing mental connection between them for her to see that he would make good on his threat. Slowly she made herself relax, including the fists she'd made of her hands. After what seemed to be an eternity of waiting he nodded to her and presented his leather-clad left arm to assist her. For a moment of defiance, she struggled against her late pregnancy to sit up by herself, but after only a short time, and not being one to engage in a futile activity, she reached out and closed her hand over his offered arm and with his assistance brought herself to a sitting position.

"You are hungry." It was not a question. He caught her elbow as she began to step down from the height of the table, and steadied her.

"Yes," she answered, and Michael glanced toward the door. She knew; could sense him reaching out to summon the hybrid he had assigned as an escort to her from outside of the door.

It was his compromise. She had protested his keeping her locked away when there was nowhere she could go, and little she could do. Since then, to be fair to him, and she could be nothing other, the quarters he had given her were comfortable, and the care she had received was excellent, but the irony of it, of being followed everywhere by his soldiers, did not escape her notice. She felt as he must have on any of the occasions he had enjoyed the hospitality of Atlantis.

With almost a start she realised that he was watching her, waiting, and she looked up to find his head tilted at an almost thoughtful angle as he regarded her.

"It bothers you?" he asked. She shook her head and by way of explanation he continued, "There are many places aboard this ship that could present a danger to you. I only wish to ensure your safety."

"And to be certain that I did not try to escape."

"That as well," he admitted solemnly, "at least in the beginning."

"What has changed, Michael?" And there had been a change, inside of her as well as from him. Her anger remained, as did the fear she felt for the people of the Pegasus galaxy, her people… her son… She dropped a hand to rest on the upper side of her curving belly and felt his eyes shift to take in her movement. The expression in his eyes, for a split second only, showed a depth of concern that surprised her, unsettled the belief in his only motive being one of using her child to further his cause. She felt his concern and for a moment felt protected, almost… safe.

"I realised that if you are to trust me, as will become necessary," he looked up from her belly to find her eyes again, "then I must demonstrate that trust in you also."

But a war between Michael and the Wraith could mean only one thing to the humans and she knew that there would be few who did not become casualties, either of Wraith cullings, Michael's experiments or they would fall to the effects of the Hoffan drug. The weight of it crushed in on her fragile peace and sent a wave of indignant anger flowing through her again; to think that any part of her could be used in such a way.

"You think I will not do _everything_ in my power to ensure I get away and keep my child safe from your cause!" she said harshly, emotional pain finding its way to her face to narrow her eyes and curl her lip like some cornered animal. "My friends will be here soon, and they will rescue me… _rescue us._"

Michael took in a deep breath, regarding her as a veil of sadness began to descend over his eyes. He closed them in a long, slow blink, and then swallowed before looking at her again and telling her softly, "They aren't coming, Teyla."

With another sigh, and looking away from her abruptly, he turned on his heel and started toward the door, his steps rapid and heavy against the floor of the ship.

"What do you mean?" she demanded, frowning and turning in his direction.

Michael paused in the doorway to turn his head toward the hybrid soldier waiting there. "Take her to find food. Ensure she eats well…"

"Tell me!"

"…and then show her to her quarters so that she can rest."

He started to move away again, striding down the corridor, his pace soon putting a greater distance between them. She hurried toward the door, meaning to go after him, to get answers, but the soldier stepped into her path, blocking her way.

"What have you done to them!" she called out to Michael, standing on tiptoe and holding on to the side of the doorway to keep her balance while she looked over the shoulder of the man standing in her way. Michael did not even slow his step, and soon rounded the corner out of sight.

**

Sheppard watched as Ronon suddenly jumped backwards, and almost tripped over a small mound of fallen brickwork as a shower of dust exploded from the space from which, for the last several hours, the sounds of tapping and scraping had been teasing them with thoughts of freedom. His head was pounding, and he felt cold and a little clammy, but he was determined to meet whoever came through with as cheerful a countenance as he could muster.

"Clear!"

"We're clear!" Shouts from new voices aided in his conspiracy of the lies he meant to tell the doctors when they finally came to him. "Get braces in that doorway, and quickly!"

"Well it's about time," he quipped, as the first of the rescue team made it through the door they'd created – a medic that immediately began to head for the nearby Satedan.

"Forget about me," Ronon growled, and turning the man by the shoulder, pointed him his way.

"It's all right, Ronon," Keller followed her medic through the door, and turned to come to his side. "Let him see to your needs, I'll take care of John."

"About time," he protested again as Keller reached his side, "He tell you he shot me?"

"I'm sure he meant well," she said, starting to make a careful examination, first of his head, and then of his shoulder.

"Meant well?" he said, wincing as she unwound the bandage, and replaced it with a medical swab. "He _shot_ me!"

"Take it easy, Colonel." She finished her assessment and waved over a stretcher. "We're going to get you out of here."

"I don't need that thing, I can wa—"

"You let them take care of you or I swear," Ronon pushed away the medic that was dealing with the cuts and scrapes he had to his arms and back and came over to where Keller was trying to restrain him from getting to his feet, "I will shoot you again."

"Well," he started, looking between the determination etched onto Ronon's face, and the look of concern on Doctor Keller's, "since you make such a persuasive argument…"

With a sigh, he lay back and sighed while he allowed the medical team to lift him onto a stretcher and begin to carry him away… and somewhere between the dusty confines of the room that had all but been a tomb to him and Ronon, and the clear air of the outside of the research facility, he closed his eyes.

**

Replete, her belly no longer churning with the nagging ache of hunger, Teyla shifted on the cot, restless still. She lay on her side and cupped her cheek in one hand, the other rested lightly on the ever lowering swell of the child she carried. It would not be much longer, she knew, but this time that was not the source of her growing concern.

She had barely noticed it at first, and sought now to pinpoint the memory of when she had first felt it. It had been masked in the discomfort of her need for food, and before that, a background hum to their hyperspace travel, but now that neither was keeping the feeling from her, she felt it more and more clearly, and it was mounting.

With a sigh, she began to get up, pacing before she realised and could make herself stop and sit once more; to try and still her mind as she had always done. It was more difficult aboard Michael's ship. The part of her that was of the Wraith reached out to the neural interface the ship possessed, not quite sentient, but close enough to be inherently disturbing to her human sensibilities. That too had been growing more noticeable to her the longer she had been aboard and in proximity to Michael.

She closed her eyes on that thought, breathing deeply and steadily and began a count of her heartbeats, slowing now as she brought herself closer to a meditative state. Bodily weight and sensation lifted, leaving her feeling lighter and more energised than in many a day. He consciously shut her out, she knew, at least most of the time, but she knew the pathways wherein he dwelled. Another breath and she reached out toward the deep unease that sat in the back of her mind, an ever present echo… pushing…

_-Countdown… failsafe… how much had they seen…?-_

She gasped and her eyes flew open. Thrust so suddenly back into awareness she felt dizzy and nausea crept up to leave her trembling, sweating, and unable to move even as she tried to rise…

**

Michael stiffened and turned his head suddenly away from watching the ever more worrying readings from the planet. With a long blink he tilted his head up and to the side, his right hand hovered over the console that bore the command code he had just entered.

**

… Pushing herself to her feet she staggered forward before stumbling to sink to her knees. She tried to bring her friends to mind, to say their names. They were here, and trapped – in trouble, if they were even still alive. She tried to grasp the very real edge of the danger they were in and use it to steady her own reeling balance.

She did not even register that the door opened, nor the tread of heavy booted feet until the hand closed around her arm, all but lifted her to her feet and turned her back toward the cot where she was, albeit somewhat gently, forced to lie down once more.

She fought the hand that pressed against her shoulder. "I am fine. Let me go," she commanded as forcefully as she could and opened her eyes to fix the hybrid with an angry stare.

Slowly he withdrew, melting as some shadow into the organic darkness of the bulkhead and Teyla was able to sit up again, breathing deeply as she tried to make sense of all she now knew, and the insight it gave her… and to push away the growing fear of everything it might mean.

**

Huddled into the back of one of the Puddle Jumpers that had been commandeered as the centre of the field hospital Carter couldn't help but feel relief at the colour that had returned to Colonel Sheppard's face. The doctor was still adamant about not letting him up for the foreseeable future – and rightly so, for the injury to his impaled shoulder had been a serious one even before Ronon had saved his life by pulling him from under the falling masonry – and he had been unable to give her any more information about what had happened than had Lieutenant Edison, but at least he was alive, and in relatively good humour. At least for now, she thought, as she watched his eyes darting across the view that could be seen from the open rear Jumper compartment.

"Let them do their job, John," she said, trying to give him some small measure of comfort. "You can do us all more good if you concentrate on following doctor's orders and getting well. There's no telling when we're going to need you."

"Where would I go?" he asked, rattling his IV line against the pole.

She shook her head, unconvinced by his attempt at innocence. "I'm serious, Colonel. I know what you're thinking, but there's nothing you can do. We're pulling… people out of the rubble as quickly as we safely can—"

"Bodies, you mean," he corrected her, uncharacteristically serious for a moment. "McKay?" She shook her head. "Major Lorne?"

Again she shook her head. "No news is good news, right?" she said.

"Last thing I heard was Lorne," Sheppard shook his head, "McKay'd found some kind of… data terminal or something and—"

"We'll find them, John." She reached out to squeeze his arm. "This is not your fault."

Frowning deeply he sat up and argued, "No. This was my party. I brought them here. I should have known Michael would have something like this in place. He—"

"And then what?" she asked him, challenging his self recriminations, "You'd have done something differently? You made a command decision – the right decision. You were looking for Teyla. You believed she was here and in peril."

"I don't suppose—?"

She started to shake her head, but turned as a member of the rescue team hurried into the Jumper's rear compartment, closely followed by the imposing figure of Ronon, up and about in spite of the cuts and bruises he'd suffered.

"Colonel Carter," he said breathlessly, "You need to see this…"

**

The shadows from the thin beam of light made his situation seem even more bleak that he had first believed… and he knew there was little hope. Digging around in the ruined masonry he'd managed to locate his fallen companion, but even after hours of dragging chunks of concrete and shattered brickwork from on top of Major Lorne, nothing he could do would rouse the unconscious marine.

Tentatively he reached out and shook him by the shoulder, trying to wake him, speaking in more desperate tones as each moment ticked past.

"Come on, Evan… it is Evan, isn't it?" he reached out, pulled the flashlight closer and visually examined him before he dared to move him much more than the slight jostling his shaking had caused.

Blood seeped from a deep gash on the Major's forehead that stretched across his temple and disappeared into his hairline. His left arm was bent at the kind of angle that could only possibly mean it was broken, and from the combined weight of the many chunks of fallen ceiling he'd pulled off the man, Rodney suspected there would be several crushing injuries that he couldn't see.

"At least you're breathing," he drew his hand away from where he felt for Lorne's pulse, watching the shallow rise and fall of the man's chest before he added, "and that's a good thing."

McKay sat back on his heels, and took a moment to adjust the makeshift bandage he had tied tightly around his own arm. It had already started to soak through.

"They will have missed us by now, right?" he asked, even though he knew he wouldn't get an answer. "Sent a rescue…? We've been, what… hours now… at least… say… five, seven?"

A shift of dust drifted down across the beam of light and settled onto the Major's already dust covered body armour. At first McKay did not register it as anything other than the periodic settling of dust. It had been happening on and off throughout the time they'd been trapped, but when it happened again, with an accompanying sound of scraping and tapping he looked up sharply, and had to make a grab for a nearby beam to steady himself against the accompanying rush of dizziness.

"What's that…?" he looked up again toward where he thought the sound originated until he realised that what he heard was the sound of a team from Atlantis finally arrived to get them out. Afterwards it was a reflex for him to start screaming at the top of his lungs to let them know that they were there.

**

"Hold it…! Wait! Stop!"

Carter clambered over the top of the semi cleared area to which she'd been called by Captain Vega's team. They'd finally been lucky and found a possible way in to the most damaged part of the structure. It had meant putting up a block and tackle to lift away some of the larger roof sections, and steel reinforced blocks. It would also mean they'd have to affect a rescue from above – if there was anyone still alive in the few pockets of space left between the broken rooms of the structure that the scanners had identified – but at least now they had a way in.

She supported herself against the wire cable of the winch as the members of the rescue team came gradually to a stop and the sound died away to near silence.

"Do you hear that?" she tilted her head, listening harder for the cry she thought she had heard before.

_"Down here!"_

She did not wait for anyone to confirm that they had heard it too, simply scrambled to the edge of the exposed area and called reassuring down into the rubble, before turning around and firing rapid orders at the rescue team who hurried to brace the already excavated area and fight their way down to those trapped beneath.

**

She felt his recognition of her presence and he turned before she even crossed part way toward him on the bridge. A deep frown settled onto his face. Close behind her the hybrid that had followed her took a faltering step or two, but stayed within easy reach. She could almost feel _him_ too, more than in the way one feels when too closely followed. It was a sensation that did not sit easy in her stomach.

"You should not be here," Michael said to her in the soft but authoritative tones he always used when speaking to her. In spite of herself she came to a halt, but did not turn to leave.

He tilted his head up and back, regarding her, examining her. Momentarily she felt the pressure she had come to recognise as his contact, mind to mind. It surrounded her, moved through her as though he stood in the same place and around the two of them the bridge, with the rapid exchanges of information, warnings that passed from one hybrid member of his crew to the next, faded from her awareness, heard only as an echo.

She took a deep breath, pushing back against the mental contact and everything sharpened into focus again. No more than a second had passed, though she swayed with more fatigue than the short walk from what Michael called 'her quarters' to the bridge should have caused.

"You should rest," he told her, beginning to turn back to his console even as the mental push repeated his instruction, more deeply.

_-rest-_

"You do not need to do this," she answered. "They are no threat to you. They are trapped and hurt, and by the time that rescue reaches them – if they still live – we can be far from here and it will be too late." She pressed a hand to her belly as the child inside of her kicked suddenly, as though he felt her agitation.

"It is regrettable," he said as his hand came to rest lightly on the console, "and more than a little inconvenient. What is the human phrase? 'Better the devil you know?'"

"They cannot _harm_ you."

"On the contrary. There is only one of your team who I know is capable of having activated my technology – albeit incorrectly – and I cannot allow him to survive and risk his remembering even the slightest piece of information he might have seen."

"Michael—" Quickly she stepped forward, reaching for his shoulder to turn him around and look him in the eyes as she tried to reason with him. She had not taken even two steps before a hand closed roughly around her wrist, a restraining arm was wrapped around her waist pulling her away. She gave a barely audible cry of surprise.

Through the mental link they shared she felt his anger flare briefly as she watched him turn to see the way she was held. His eyes bore into his soldier and the man recoiled, letting go of her so suddenly she almost stumbled, and reached out to catch the edge of a nearby console to regain her balance. Before she had, Michael was in front of her and grasped her forearms as though he did not trust it to support her.

"Michael, please," she began, "they cannot har—"

Mid sentence she stopped, and trembled as a nauseating rush of familiar dark coldness deep within assaulted her, and of themselves her fingers became claws that wrapped almost desperately around Michael's arms.

"Teyla?" his frown became one of deep concern. He stepped closer and, she thought, shifted his balance as though he were about to lift her into his arms, to carry her from the bridge.

She tried to push herself away from him, struggle against the restraint of his grip as her colour continued to fade. She looked up into his face and whispered, "They are coming…"

**

"Easy… easy…" Carter crooned as the engineers tugged on one pulley after another to lift a large section of rubble from the hole they had opened. They were almost through. Just a few more, smaller pieces of concrete and they would have the space below sufficiently exposed to allow a rescue party to go down and lift the injured away to safety. Equally though, if anything went wrong, if but one of the part of the rubble slipped and fell against the barely braced sides of the shaft they'd dug it would sent the remaining debris crashing down to cover their ingress and they would have to begin again.

The crackle of her radio made her jump, and Lieutenant Anston's desperate voice filled her with dread.

_"Colonel Carter, this is Anston, come in!"_ He barely waited for a response before he repeated the call, this time with more information. _"Colonel, we're taking fire! Respond please!"_

"Carter. What do you mean, taking fire?" Sam stepped away from the edge of the pit to begin scrambling down the side of the mound.

_"The Wraith—"_ a burst of P90 fire, interspersed with the sickening sound of Wraith weapons cut off the rest of his sentence and was only made worse by the occasional cry of a fallen marine, or the intermittent whine of the propulsion system of a Wraith Dart.

"Dial the gate," Carter ordered, cursing inwardly at her own lack of foresight. "Get out of there."

_"We can't!"_ Anston yelled over the sound of his own P90. _"They came through the gate! Colonel you have to get out of there… the Darts are headed your way."_

"Damn it!" Colonel Carter turned and began to scramble toward the top of the mound of debris once more. "Captain Vega," she yelled toward the woman in command of the military team supporting the engineers as they worked to uncover those trapped beneath. "Fan out, defend this area. We have to get our people out of there and we have hostiles headed our way?"

"Hostiles?" Vega shouted back.

"Wraith!" she answered before once more keying the transmit button on her radio. "All teams, this is Carter. Fall back! I repeat, fall back. Head for the Jumpers. Radek, as soon as you have everyone, engage the cloaks."

_"Understood, Colonel,"_ his calm voice responded. She couldn't help thinking that he, of all of them, had anticipated this eventuality and was not in the slightest bit surprised by it and nor, she cursed herself again, should she have been.

**

"How many?"

Michael freed himself from her grasp and let go of her before he turned to question the hybrid who had taken his place at the tactical console.

"Seven Darts and ground forces… more are coming."

Teyla moved with him as he stepped forward to where he could more easily see the view screen. "The Hive will not be far behind," he said and then asked, "How close were the Lanteans to rescuing those trapped within the chamber?"

"They continue to try," the hybrid answered, and Teyla could not help but feel a surge of warmth in knowing that those from Atlantis continued to care for their own, even against the increasingly difficult odds presented by the arrival of the Wraith. She turned her head to regard Michael as another wash of irritation momentarily disturbed his almost resigned calm.

"You friends are nothing if not persistent," he told her in clipped tones, "but it will do them no good. They should accept their losses and move on before they are over-run by the Wraith."

"You know that they will not," she said, lifting her chin defiantly.

"No matter," he turned his head then, looking into her eyes, stepping no closer, but surrounding her, possessively, none the less. "The outcome will be the same."

_-outcome will be the same- -will be the same- -be the same-_

He left barely a heartbeat of silence that screamed at her to demand of him what he meant, but she knew he would not answer. "Put the moon between the ship and the surface of the planet," he instructed his hybrids, "Ensure that when the Hive arrives we remain masked by it." Then he turned his head to regard her once more and commanded, "Come with me," and she, together with several of his soldiers turned and left the bridge.


	2. Act 2

Act 2

Lieutenant Anston ducked his head back around behind the rocks sheltering his team from the Wraith's weapons and quickly reloaded his P90. Colonel Carter's orders to fall back to the Jumpers had lasted all of ten minutes. Once it became evident that the Wraith were not planning on letting them fall back easily – not to mention their advance toward the engineers working at the compound, she had issued a counter order for an all out assault. It was an assault that was not going well and the scream of another one of his men made him cringe, as moments later the marine fell at his feet.

"Keep your heads down!" he ordered, while he threw himself back into the fight, firing his weapon even as he yelled, "They don't seem too worried about overcooking their food!"

He ducked his head back behind the rocks and glanced at his fallen soldier. The man's eyes were open and staring, his chest still, locked in the pain of his death. The Wraith were definitely not interested in taking prisoners.

_"Lieutenant Anston, what's your status?"_

A burst of gunfire from the radio told him that his was not the only position to have been compromised. Wherever Colonel Carter was, she also was under fire from the Wraith.

"There were just too many of them, Ma'am," he yelled to be heard over the sounds of battle, intensifying as the Wraith drew closer. He ducked again for cover as they continued their push against his team. "We had to fall back, take a defensive position." He had to break off as another of the marines under his command fell to deadly fire from the Wraith.

_"What's the status of the Gate?"_ Carter's voice in his ear sounded desperate.

"Sorry Colonel, we lost the gate." Turning quickly, as if in vengeance against the Wraith for having to report failure to his superior officer, he unleashed another barrage of P90 fire against a group of Wraith warriors who advanced too far to be able to return to cover before he took them down. "They just keep coming… foot soldiers, Darts… at least a half dozen. We're holding them – just – from this position, but…"

**

_"…it's tough, Ma'am, I'm losing good men to their fire!"_

Sheppard struggled to sit up. The frown deepened on his face as he listened to the frantic back and forth exchange of bad news between Carter and the other team leaders. Finding his feet he lurched toward the radio headset on the other nearby bench, and leaned against the side of the Jumper as he tried, one handed, to put it into place.

"Colonel!" Doctor Keller broke away from a patient she was treating at the bottom of the ramp into the rear compartment. The area had been covered with a makeshift tent, and Zelenka had somehow – and John didn't understand, or really care, how – managed to extend the Jumper's cloaking field to give their temporary hospital the benefit of its protection.

"Doctor," Sheppard countered dangerously, knowing she was about to object to his being on his feet. "I'm fine. I'm needed."

"You're no good to them if you—"

"Jennifer," he pressed his good hand, still holding the earpiece he hadn't had time to put into place, against her shoulder and leaned down to look her in the eye, "men are _dying_ out there, and they're all that stand between you, your patients and the Wraith."

He didn't wait for her to argue, he just let go and thrust the earpiece mostly into place, hitting the transmit button at the same time. Nor did he respond to her irritated sigh as she began to walk away from him. He focussed his attention on doing what he could to help save their forces on the ground.

"Anston, this is Sheppard," he said.

_"Colonel,"_ the marine answered through the sudden burst of static. _"Good to hear your voice, sir."_

Sheppard winced as the whine of a Wraith Dart cut across Anston's voice, followed by the roar of an explosion.

_"Anston, what's going on?"_ Carter was the first to breech the ensuing interference. When the Lieutenant didn't immediately respond, Sheppard, swearing, began to move out of the Jumper, grabbing what equipment he could.

"Anston, respond!"

"Sheppard, what are you doing?" Ronon's hands lifted the body armour he was struggling to put on out of his hands and the big Satedan stepped up closer to him. Behind Ronon, Doctor Keller looked on, a worried expression creasing her face.

"I'm doing my job," he snapped, "and trying to find a way to save my men and give Carter time to get to the rest of our people."

"You're in no fit state for this, John," Ronon tossed the armour back onto the bench where Sheppard had found it.

"That's just fine coming from you!" Sheppard pushed against Ronon, but he didn't move. "You'd be the last person to let a few injuries come between you and what you know you gotta do."

"That's different. It's—"

"Look," he sighed and looked up to fix his friend with an imploring expression. He understood that both Ronon and Keller had his best interests in their minds and hearts when they tried to stop him, but this was much bigger than he was. Much more was at stake. "I'm on my feet. I feel fine. Those men out there need all the help they can get."

"So help them," Keller said as she appealed from behind the immovable object that was Ronon, "and give yourself time to heal. You can't help them like this."

Sighing, he looked between the doctor and the former Runner. Finally acquiescing, for the moment at least, to doing what he could from the infirmary. "All right… All right," he said, and he took a few steps toward a nearby cot, where he sat down. "I'll stay put – for now – do what I can from here. Is that good enough?"

After a moment, Ronon uncrossed his arms and nodded. "Good enough," he agreed.

**

Carter, Captain Vega and her team pushed forward again, if only slightly, keeping the small contingent of Wraith from advancing any further toward the rubble of the compound, setting up small outposts to halt their ingress. It was little enough, and Sam knew it wouldn't hold them for long – not if any greater numbers came against them than the handful they now fought. She clapped Vega on the shoulder, and keeping low, sprinted from one such defensive position to another, to check on the sergeant heading up the four man team.

_"Carter, what's your status?"_ John Sheppard's voice sounded in her ear as she pressed herself flat against the broken wall behind which the team sheltered.

"I'm with Captain Vega's team," she said, "We're on the far outskirts of the grounds, holding back a small group of Wraith ground troops… trying to protect our engineers."

_"And the engineers?"_ Sheppard asked the obvious question.

"They're working to try and clear a pathway into an area where we discovered survivors," she paused, hesitant of telling him the identity of those they were desperately trying to rescue. Finally she added, "John… it's Rodney."

When he didn't answer she started to worry that telling him had been the wrong decision and she called out for his response not once, but twice over.

_"All teams, this is Sheppard…"_ Her breath exploded from her chest as she finally heard him, and realised that his silence had probably been while he formulated some kind of plan. _"Concentrate your fire, move to flanking positions where possible, and draw the Wraith away from the main compound. I repeat, do everything in your power to draw the Wraith away from approaching the main compound."_

"It's a good plan, John," she told him, nodded to the sergeant to follow the orders he'd been given, and began to make her own retreat. She meant to return to the engineers and see what she could do to lend a hand.

_"Just get him out of there, Samantha,"_ Sheppard responded solemnly in her ear.

**

Signing both her orders and her intentions to the seven men in her squad Alicia Vega moved herself closer to the edge of the brickwork that hid them from the side of the Wraith they were stalking. The Wraith were pinned down by the defensive outposts put in place by Colonel Carter, and it now fell to her to draw them away from the compound. She did not intend to fail.

Since her arrival on Atlantis, several weeks before the events that led to the capture of the Athosian woman, Teyla, by what she understood was some kind of creature – part Wraith, part Human, accidentally created by Doctor Becket after some kind experiment went terribly awry – she felt her skills as a soldier had been largely underused. She and her team had been mostly confined to domestic security, guarding the city of Atlantis from unrest from within, when she longed for nothing more than to be allowed to travel off world; to take part in expeditions and to join in the fight for the defence of the Pegasus galaxy.

She wasn't afraid, and meant to prove her usefulness to Colonels Carter and Sheppard, so that when all of this was over and Teyla was rescued… when these Wraith were neutralised and the creature that caused such consternation among the senior Atlantis personnel had been destroyed, she would be allowed to fulfil her wishes.

The man opposite her, on the other side of the break in the wall, nodded that he was secure in his position. She raised her hand, three fingers showing a countdown to the rest of the team, then two, then one… before her curled fist pumped the air, and pushing with her legs she led the flanking assault against the Wraith.

Leading with a burst of gunfire, she moved to an exposed position, half way between the wall and the Wraith, knowing that three of the seven men in her squad followed hard on her heels. From there, once they had their attention, they would roll aside to a nearby gully, covered by the other four men, and would continue the assault from there, drawing the Wraith to follow them while the others put themselves between the Wraith and the compound, herding them on and driving them away. From everything she knew of the Wraith, it was a good plan. Ever hungry and blinded by their inherent aggression they would be hard pressed to resist.

She'd never really seen more than an image of a Wraith in the Atlantis database, so when the first turned her way, his bone-covered, faceless visage still somehow managing to sneer in her direction, Alicia felt her heart and her stomach changing places. When neither he, nor his companion soldiers, responded to the several burst of gunfire from the three men, or from her own P90, her lurching stomach began to freefall to somewhere that was much lower than her boots.

She and her men were committed however, and gathering her wits quickly she rolled aside as the Wraith raised their blasters and began answering the assault with gunfire of their own. She reached the gully and all but fell into it as the covering P90 fire burst the air around both the protagonists and their Wraith targets, then almost at once raised her head, and her weapon above the lip of the gully to begin firing. She had to give the second strike team cover to reach their assigned positions from where they would drive back the Wraith. Instead she watched in horror as the first of the four men fell – his face and neck smoking and blackened from the impact of energy from a Wraith blaster – as the Wraith showed no signs of being in the slightest way manipulated by her double pronged attack. It was not going to work.

"Fall back!" she ordered desperately into her radio. "Randall, Westlay… Fall back and assume defensive positions!"

**

Listening to the alternating gunfire and screams of dying marines, Sheppard trust himself closer to the edge of the cot and keyed his radio mic as his feet touched the ground.

"Vega, this is Sheppard. Report," he ordered.

_"It's no good, sir,"_ he heard the tone in her voice, the alarm and the disillusionment crushed together with the suddenly realised fear. _"They're not falling for it. None of it. Burrows is down, I think dead. They simply turned aside and pushed on forward as if we weren't there."_

"Relax, Captain," he tried to sound reassuring, but the response, and the single minded determination on the part of the Wraith to reach the compound no matter what, had him spooked as well. "You did all you could. Try and circle around to reach the defensive outposts. We can at least try to stop them if we can't draw them off."

_"Colonel Sheppard,"_ Carter joined the radio communication. _"I have similar reports from what's left of Anston's team by the gate, and Sergeant Robinson reports they're under relentless fire from Wraith teams the Darts are beaming in. They're using deadly force."_

Sheppard's mind was racing. "They didn't expect us to be here," he said, beginning to put the pieces together. "This is Michael's compound. They expected him, his forces…"

_"Then why didn't they just turn around and leave when they discovered they're not here?"_ Vega asked.

"That's a very good question." Sheppard got to his feet, nodding, though he knew the others couldn't see that.

_"They must be after something they think is here… something Michael left behind,"_ Carter surmised, sending his mind racing down a dozen other pathways at once.

How were the Wraith able to find this place; to even know of its existence? Now that they did, what of Michael's could they possibly want?

"Todd," he breathed, answering his own questions, "the data."

_"One of our people… Teyla… was taken by a dart today," McKay said. _

_Without blinking, Todd answered, "Then I suppose she's already made some lucky Wraith a very tasty meal." _

_"This was no culling. She was targeted. Someone set a trap." _

_"And you suspect this…" Todd jerked his gaze, insect-like back to regard Sheppard, "…what do you call him… Michael?" _

_"Well if not the timing's a hell of a coincidence," Sheppard said without taking his eyes off the Wraith in front of him. Todd let out an audible sigh that could have been one of agreement or understanding. "We need you to tap your intel sources, find something useful." _

_Rodney reached behind him and pulled the tablet he was carrying from its place in his backpack. He held it out to Todd, who came slowly forward to take it from his hands. _

_"This tablet has the address of an off world relay station. If you leave a message for us we'll get it. It also has our research on the Hoffan drug." _

_"Ah," Todd seemed delighted and at once began to access the data on the tablet. _

_"Just enough to whet your appetite. You find something we can use, we'll give you the rest." Sheppard added, trying to cap the Wraith's obvious pleasure. He did not, after all, want Todd to think that he had won even a single round of negotiations. _

_"Well, I'll see what I can do," Todd hissed. _

Obviously he had… and had been able to do a great deal.

_"What are you talking about?"_ Carter asked in frustration.

"When we were trying to find where Michael might have brought Teyla, we asked Todd to find us intel, remember, in exchange for some of our research into the Hoffan protein?" Sheppard answered Carter, his mind still whirling along the many possibilities for the Wraith's arrival on this planet.

_"I remember,"_ Carter said, _"But what does that have to do with data?"_

"Just before the explosions went off, Rodney said he'd found some kind of… computer terminal," he said, "Something that contained all of Michael's data, his research, the location of his bases… everything… I told you."

_"You think maybe something of this data survived the explosion?"_ Carter said, sounding as horrified as he was beginning to be, to think that this information might fall into the hands of the Wraith.

"It's possible," he admitted, "even if it is a long shot. I imagine Michael set these charges to _prevent_ the information falling into enemy hands, ours or theirs."

_"But a long shot is better than no shot at all, right?"_ Carter said.

"And it seems that our friend Todd thinks so as well." He confirmed, beginning to make his way over to where Ronon had tossed the body armour. This time he was not about to be sidelined. It was imperative that they reach Rodney – and hopefully the information – before the Wraith. He figured that Colonel Carter must have come to the same conclusion, because in the next moment her orders went out over general broadcast.

_"All teams, this is Colonel Carter. Protect the compound – I repeat, all teams, protect the compound."_ She barely took a breath before concluding, _"We have to stop the Wraith at all costs."_

That was all the excuse he needed. Pulling off the sling that supported his arm, and ignoring the pain as he moved his badly injured shoulder, he began to struggle his way into the body armour, turning his back on the approaching Satedan, even as he watched the big man move away from Doctor Keller's side.

"I know what you're going to say, Ronon, so save it!"

"You can barely move," Ronon argued, taking no notice. "How do you think you're going to be able to fire a weapon?"

"I won't sit here while I could be out there helping to keep the Wraith away from Rodney and that data." He turned and looked up at Ronon's frowning face. "So you can either help me, or stay the hell out of my way!"

**

Sound in the auxiliary control room echoed from the many nooks and folds on the ship's hull and Teyla wrapped her arms around herself, unnerved by the nearness to open space. The control room opened into the launch bay where the many Darts held by Michael's cruiser, and his own personal scout ship, lay dormant until they were needed.

Her lip trembled slightly, and she shivered, almost reaching out with one of her hands to take hold of the console, until a solid presence moved slightly beside her, protective, halting just within her personal space.

_…Michael…_

She turned her head and glanced upward, watching his almost impassive face as his hands moved over the console and yet beneath that, she felt his concern, the calm urgency of purpose with which he moved. He closed his eyes, little more than a long, slow blink and breathed out.

"The launch bay is quite safe," he said quietly. "I wouldn't have brought you here if it were not."

"I chose to come with you," she countered, refusing to allow herself to believe she was in any way subject to his will.

He turned his head then to look down at her, his golden eyes bore into hers, unblinking.

"Make no mistake, Teyla," he said after a moment or two, "I will keep you and the child safe and protected… but I will allow _nothing_ and _no one_ to get in the way of my plans."

_-don't fight me- -don't fight me- -don't fight me-_

As he often did, abruptly he snapped his gaze away from hers and half turned to signal to the waiting hybrid that he was to speak, leaving her to pull herself away from the mental contact he had so easily initiated.

"Chatter from the planet's surface indicates the Lanteans believe the Wraith are here to capture your data, your research," the hybrid informed him. "The attacks against the Humans have been deadly in nature."

"They are holding?" he asked, turning his attention back to the console, and making adjustments to several lines of Wraith text he had already entered.

Teyla blinked rapidly, trying to take everything in; trying to understand and feel, from Michael, his intentions. The Wraith on the planet were there to intercept his data… he must have known that would be their intention. It must have been why he did not have them leave immediately he knew the compound was destroyed. He was using her friends… letting _them_ do his work for him until he _had_ to intercede – if at all.

"For now," the hybrid answered.

Michael nodded. "Prepare my ship for immediate launch, should it become necessary," he ordered, "In the meantime, continue to monitor the situation."

The hybrid soldier turned and went with a number of his companions to follow Michael's instructions, leaving Teyla alone with Michael and but one of his men.

"What would make it necessary, Michael?" she began. She had to persuade him to help her friends against the Wraith.

A sudden, overwhelming cold… a darkness that was almost painful this time prevented her from saying more, and curtailed any answer Michael may have given as he turned to take her by the arm and guide her to one of the benches at the side of the room.

"The Hives have just left hyperspace," he told her, and added with an almost soft urgency, "breathe."

_-breathe- -breathe- -breathe-_

Teyla had not even realised she was holding her breath until Michael's guidance brought her to the bench, to sit, as he too sat. The urgency she felt from him increased momentarily as the sensation of being enfolded in his mind, enshrouded by him, pressed against her and she took a shuddering breath as though she had been starved of oxygen for minutes not mere seconds.

"Two Wraith Hive ships have just emerged from hyperspace." The hybrid soldier's voice, announcing what she and Michael already knew, was vague, distant to her. It, and the ship, had faded again into the distance until she had only an awareness of Michael.

"Look at me," he told her sharply.

_-look at me- -at me- -me-_

A sensation of warmth moved down over her arms, past her wrists to enfold her hands, as she slowly turned her head upward, finding his eyes with hers.

"She is actively seeking," he said, "It will pass."

_-It will pass- -will pass- -pass-_

"Michael," she whispered, "cold… anger…"

_…cold…_

"Focus only on _my_ mind."

_-Only my mind- -my mind- -mind-_

The pressure that was Michael increased as some flash of instinct took over from her rational mind. A need for control, for trust, enveloped her and in giving up that one small moment of herself, slowly the painful darkness pushing at her began to fade, and the ship… and everything around her began to come once more into her awareness.

She blinked as Michael stood, and began to walk away from her, back to the console. Her hands felt suddenly cold, and she could not help but look down at them where they were clasped together in her lap.

"What _was_ that?" she looked over to Michael, to the stiffness in his posture, and she began to try and rise.

"I told you," he said without turning and with just a hint of anger in his voice, "The Queen was actively searching for me." Then, as though his voice were a whip, he added, "Stay where you are. You will need to rest."

"I am fine," she said through gritted teeth as she still struggled to find her feet, swiftly irritated that he continued to give her orders. She fully expected to have to fight his mental instruction and when it did not follow, she was momentarily disarmed, and thought once more about the presence of the Queen. "Michael, she is dangerous," she said, and of themselves, her hands came to rest protectively against her belly.

"They have launched several Darts," the hybrid announced. "They're heading for the planet."

"Even with the moon keeping us shielded from their sensors, we will not remain hidden for long." Michael said, though whether it was in agreement with her, or whether he was talking to his soldier, she could not be sure.

"Then do not hide," Teyla said, letting her anger at being suddenly so afraid give her the strength she needed to finally push herself to her feet.

"Prepare the Darts to cover our retreat," Michael ordered his hybrid. The soldier turned from his console and went to join the others in the launch bay.

She felt any chance of helping her friends, any thought of rescue, begin to slip away from her. She had to act, and she had to act now. She lurched across the space between herself and Michael, meaning to slip between him and the console; to make him look at her, but he half turned, halting her momentum, and the spark of anger in his eyes made her take a step backwards, before she stopped altogether.

"And do not _run_," she implored him. "We have surprise on our side. If we _fight_ we can destroy them."

"No," he raised his voice only slightly, but took a step toward her, until they stood with barely any distance between them, "do not continue to endanger yourself, Teyla." He all but hissed the words at her. "You must rest or I will confine you again."

"But the Wraith—" she began, her heart was straining in her chest and she could not make sense of the sensations and emotions that coursed suddenly though her, a need, a hunger and a terrible fear all as one.

"—will be destroyed," he interrupted her words, his eyes burning with fury, "But now is not the time."

_-not the time--not time- -time-_

**

She tried hard to ignore the radio chatter and the continuing sounds of explosions from the teams defending her position with the engineers and try to concentrate on getting to Rodney, but it was hard. Every whine of the Wraith Dart engines, every scream of a fallen solder, only served to remind her just how desperate their position had become, and made very clear to her just how deadly the escalating war between Michael and the Wraith truly was.

She needed to get Rodney out and stop the Wraith from getting to that data, but then… if she did that, wasn't that protecting Michael? Siding with him against the Wraith? Then again, if she didn't, wouldn't it mean that they were siding with the Wraith against Michael?

Her mind went around and around in circles as she tried to reconcile, for herself at least, which would be the lesser of the two evils. In the end she just came to the conclusion that they were dangerously playing both sides against one another.

She shook her head and moved forward to help steady a large section of rubble that looked like a piece of wall that the engineers were lifting away with their winches and pulleys.

"Steady…" the lead engineer crooned to the rest of the team. "Slowly… we can't afford to let this slip. If we lose this it'll take down all this side and we'll be right back to where we started."

"We can't afford to let that happen," she told him softly, "not with the Wraith practically on top of us."

"We're almost through," he answered, "Once we get this piece free, we can start taking away the loose rubble from the top and the sides. It should allow us to expose enough of the room to get us in."

"Or to get our people out," another engineer added, tugging on the pulley he was controlling and starting to swing the wall section out of the way.

A high pitched whine was the only warning they got before the beam of energy slammed against the side of the mound. Debris exploded in all directions and the engineer who had been guiding the swing of the wall away from the excavated section of the rubble screamed, and went tumbling backwards. The pulley shifted and slipped, sending the large wall section falling right toward him over the rubble.

"Keep working!" Carter yelled, snatching up her weapon and skittering down the loose side of the rubble toward a group of Wraith warriors who had materialised in the wake of the Dart's surprise attack. "I'll cover you!"

_"Carter, this is Vega, I'm falling back to assist."_ The voice in her ear was calm now, as though the woman had reconciled her earlier fears. _"Just hold on."_

_"This is Ronon,"_ a second voice came, hard on the heels of Vega's. _"I'm right behind you, Captain."_

Sam couldn't help smiling as she swung her weapon up and began firing. She ducked aside as the first of the Wraith took a shot at her, and then answered him with a dozen bullets that shattered his bone covered face. She knew she needed to find cover, but there was a flush of satisfaction that came over her as she watched the Wraith fall to his knees, and then face down into the rubble-strewn dirt.

A burst of gunfire away to the side, and the urgent call of her name snapped her out of her momentary stupor. She sprinted toward the sound just as the ground where she had been standing exploded in into dust from the impact of a Wraith blaster's energy fire. She turned and ran sideways the last part of the way, letting out a stream of bullets from her weapon, before she ducked behind the same twisted metal frame that shielded the Captain.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly, nodding to Vega. The woman nodded back, albeit briefly, before she rolled herself around the opposite edge of the frame and started firing again toward the Wraith.

Sam took a moment to close her eyes, take in a deep breath, and hope like hell that the blast from the Dart's weapons has not undone the day's hard work. She opened her eyes again and tried to peer through the gun smoke and dust to where she'd left the engineers. She could see nothing but dim shapes moving like ants over the mound.

The sound of a welcome and familiar energy weapon joined the percussive chant of P90 fire and Sam turned her head again to watch as Ronon threw himself into the fight against the Wraith. He was as relentless as they were – and just as fearless it seemed, as he barely used the cover provided by the fallen structures as he made his way toward them, firing with each step, until he could engage them at close quarters, hand to hand.

A section of rubble exploding close by was the only reminder that Carter needed that she too should join the battle. Raising her weapon again, she turned and left the cover of the metal behind which she was sheltering, and joined her companions, firing round after round into the dwindling number of Wraith warriors. It did not take long before each one of the small group of enemy soldiers lay dead, the last of them slipping from Ronon's hands, his neck broken.

"They probably won't be the last dropped in by Dart," Carter said, nodding to Ronon as she finally reached his side.

"How much more time do you need?" he asked nodding toward the engineers, who were beginning to emerge from the settling clouds of dust.

"That will depend on how much damage the Dart caused. It fired on the engineers' position after it swept these bastards in." Frustrated, she kicked out at the nearest fallen Wraith, then turned to glare at Ronon as she chuckled. "What?"

"You've been around Sheppard too long," he told her, but then the mirth suddenly left his eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"He left the field hospital," he said, the words a mere growl in his throat.

"Stupid ass—" she keyed the mic, "Sheppard, this is Carter, come in."

"Tried that…" Ronon said, a warning tone in his voice.

_"I'll tell you what I told Ronon,"_ Sheppard's voice came back and even over the radio his pain was more than obvious. _"I won't sit around and let other men take the fall when I could be out here doing something."_

"You were doing something, John," she tried, glancing at Ronon who was shaking his head. "You were coordinating the men on the ground from a safe, command position."

_"Not good enough,"_ he said without skipping a beat. He must have expected her to say that.

"Damn it, Colonel, it will have to be good enough. Get back to medical, and that's an order."

_"Sorry, Ma'am, no can do."_

"Sheppard, so help me I—" The whine of incoming Darts cut off the tirade she had been about to make concerning busting several delicate parts of his anatomy, not to mention his rank down to something of a more manageable size. She watched them drop into view as if from nowhere. "Damn it," she hissed.

_"Colonel Carter?"_ John Sheppard may have been insubordinate, but he was nothing if not concerned.

"Several more Darts just dropped into the atmosphere from orbit," she told him. "It looks like the Hive is here."

**

He moved with confidence past the two guards at the entrance and approached to within a few paces of the centre of the chamber. There he stopped and waited, knowing that to overstep his bounds at such a time, and with such a report to give, would likely mean his death at the hands of this Queen his Hive had allied with. He had seen such things before, and it was not at all a pleasant memory.

Curious, he slowly raised his eyes to gaze on her, where she sat, being ministered to by the two scantly clad human females, who were her body servants – at least until they managed to bore her, and were fed upon – as he knew often happened.

She was beautiful, exquisite to behold. Tall and lithe with unblemished, pale green skin, enhanced by wondrously complex Wraith characters that formed an almost delicate string from her collar bone, over her chest and disappeared beneath the tight bodice of her otherwise flowing, blood red gown. The fingers that caressed the naked shoulder of the slave kneeling at her side were each tipped with sparkling but deadly blades and her long white hair hung in hundreds of tight, slim braids, weighted by the jewelled knuckle bones of the human females' fingers that had soothed and served her over the many millennia of her life… for she was ancient… perhaps the oldest of all of the Wraith Queens.

As he looked on, he could not help but adore her.

A slight growling hiss came from her throat and past her slightly parted lips and she slowly opened her eyes, tilting her head to one side, and fixing him with her gaze. He knew he was to approach.

He inclined his head in a slight bow, before taking the last several steps that brought him to the centre of her chamber. There he halted, waiting again as she gripped the shoulders of her servants, drawing blood, and accepted their hands upon her arms to assist her to rise.

"Leave us," she hissed, and the two women backed away to the sides of the chamber and skittered along the walls until they could pass the two guards and exit the room. Only then did she begin to descend the steps toward him, stalking, catlike, and almost delicately tasting the essence of her servants left by their blood on her fingers as she came.

When she reached him, she began to circle him slowly, running the tips of her blades over him as she did, though barely touching at all. He knew better than to move, and it was not the nearness or the sharpness of the blades that kept him in place. He felt the push of her mind against his, and opened himself to her touch.

She stopped behind him, and almost sensually laid her head next to his.

He held his breath. His heart became a wild flutter. Never had he been so close to a Queen such as this one, so favoured as an outsider of her own Hive… but then perhaps, as ancient as she was, she considered all to be her own. Her exhalation came against his cheek, as she swayed behind him, hissing out a second breath and probing more deeply for the information she had summoned him here to collect from him… the data from the compound and the planet they now orbited.

He took a shuddering breath of his own, lightheaded from the lack of it. He knew they had been unable to find any traces of the data core… but life signs had been detected where the core should have been and he knew from his dealings with them before, that the life signs were those of the people from Atlantis.

The wild heat of her anger flooded from her mind to his, overwhelming. Her hand flashed up to grasp his collar, spinning him to face her and at once forcing him to his knees with the press of her mind. Logically he knew that he had not failed her – that what had happened on the planet was beyond his control; beyond hers – and yet as her right hand came back, mantling in preparation for taking from him the consequences of her disappointment, he tilted his head back and to the right, to allow her greater access to his skin.

Her hand descended to his neck slowly then… and the fire of her anger cooled with puzzlement as she took her price from him slowly. He relished the pain, curled his hands into fists at his side to allow his own razor tipped finger to pierce his own palm. He knew that Colonel Sheppard and his Lantean companions had tripped some kind of failsafe that the tainted creature had left behind to protect what was his. Perhaps one of them had seen some little part of the data, and could provide them with the information they required, if only they were captured for interrogation.

The Queen tilted her head quickly to the opposite side, her eyes narrowing as she regarded him… and then the pain stopped… instead an almost ecstatic warmth began to flow from where she curled the blade tipped fingers against his neck. Pleasure and pain together… until she took a step back, hissing sharply.

He felt bereft, but knew he was to rise; to leave her; return to his own Hive. He had preparations to make for when the Dart arrived that would bring the Lantean prisoners to him; for him to find the answers and to make them speak. Slowly he struggled, weakened to his feet. His blood boiled and his belly churned in the sickness of need – of hunger that was not all his own – already she had moved past him… he had been dismissed and knew that delay would only anger her again.

Quickly he started toward the door, and almost stumbled when the grasp of her mind tightened around his again, turning him back to her even as she turned to face him.

"What of the other?" she hissed slowly, her eyes again narrowing in barely contained fury.

Slowly he shook his head. There was no sign of the one of whom she spoke, not here, or even nearby. And there was no sign of the Tainted One or his forces either… only the Lanteans.

With another irritated hiss, she sent him once more on his way.

His long strides and rapid steps took him quickly across the threshold of the Queen's chamber, and to the relative safety of the corridor beyond. He paused and turned to one of the women waiting patiently to be summoned again. Obedient to her Wraith betters, she lowered her eyes. He reached out to cup her chin in his hand and raise her face to his again.

"Your Queen hungers," he told her softly. "Go to her."

Barely a moment after she slipped from his grasp and entered the Queen's chamber again, the sick, churning feeling, and the prickling heat that coursed through his veins slowed, though it did not fade entirely. Still, he let out a growling sigh of satisfaction.

**

"You hear that?" Rodney didn't even care too much this time that his voice was shrill and, as his sister would say, shrieking like a girl. All he knew was that something out there had taken a shot at his burial mound, and now the remaining debris was shifting around and moaning like some long dead pharaoh, about to fall on him and finish what Michael had started.

Slowly, he straightened up a little from where he'd thrown himself protectively over the still immobile, unconscious figure of the major. Dust and debris cascaded from his back like water.

"Of course you didn't hear that," he answered himself waspishly, "You're unconscious, and medical _science_," he made quotation marks in the air with his fingers, "has yet to offer sufficient proof that the human brain can process or comprehend anything in such a state, let alone hear the sounds of someone trying to BLAST THE BUILDING DOWN AROUND MY EARS!"

"Rodney…" the female voice shouting his name from somewhere not too far above him startled all the fear-born anger out of him. "Rodney, it's me, Sam…"

"Sam..?" he said vaguely as if he didn't recognise the name at first, and then more confidently he squeaked out "Sam," and laughed before he called her name again.

"Yes," she said.

"Sam," he couldn't help but keep laughing with relief as he saw a sliver of daylight behind a dark shadow that must have been her head. "What's going on?"

"Listen to me," she said quickly, and she sounded uncommonly urgent to him, speaking almost as quickly as he did, "we're working as fast as we can to shift this rubble and get you out, but there's something very important I need you to do. I need you to find the data core—"

"What?" he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Wasn't she supposed to be telling him that everything was going to be all right; that they would have him out of there in a minute and not to worry?

"The data core," she repeated firmly, "The memory unit of Michael's computer – where all his files are st—"

"Yes, yes," he cut in irritably now, "thank you, I _know_ what a data core is. What I don't know is how you expect me to find it in all of this. I can barely move around on my hands and knees. I—"

"Please, Rodney, this is important. We're not the only ones after that thing, we're fighting Wraith from every quarter and I don't need to tell you what will happen if they get their hands on it. I need you to find it."

"Great!" he protested loudly, but he was already starting to move around on his hands and knees, pushing through the rubble towards where he _thought_ the computer terminal should be. "Just another one of those three impossible things I'm supposed to do before breakfast."

"We'll have you out of there soon," she said, completely ignoring his witty reference to _The Restaurant at the End of the Universe._ The thought of breakfast suddenly reminded him of how long it had been since he'd eaten. He turned and looked up at the sliver of sky.

"You… wouldn't have a power bar or something to share?" he said pitifully.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Food, you know," he answered, "It's been hours and… and I don't—"

He stopped at the light slap of something hitting his shoulder, and suddenly not just hungry, but ravenous, he tore open the wrapper of the bar and bit off a huge chunk. Second later he almost choked as a sudden burst of gunfire from above dragged him back to reality.

"Sam?" he managed around the half chewed mouthful. "What's going on?"

"Find it, Rodney!" she yelled, and then the shadow was gone, leaving a small shaft of light illuminating the swirls of dust in the air.

**

Ronon came running in, seemingly out of nowhere, letting out a challenging cry as he did and firing on the Wraith that had John Sheppard pinned with what was left of the team he'd joined.

"Sheppard, get the hell out of here!" Ronon yelled at him, grabbing the business end of a Wraith blaster that was pointed at him, and smashing the Wraith across the face with his forearm. Sheppard had to admit, he was relieved to see the Satedan.

"Good to see you too," he quipped, trying to hide the exhaustion in his voice.

"We _told_ you that you weren't ready for this," Ronon answered, firing point blank into another of the Wraith that were trying to surround him. "You need to get back to the field hospital."

Suddenly angry, Sheppard advanced on the group of Wraith around his persistent friend, firing, albeit awkwardly, the P90 he was using in his off hand. "And I told _you_ that I wasn't about to sit around and just—"

The ground around them suddenly exploded in flying debris as two Wraith Darts made a low strafing run… around them, the Wraith warriors on the ground began to pull back, and the buzzing whine of the Darts in the air intensified.

"This is new," Sheppard said sarcastically, watching as Ronon all but chased the retreating Wraith. He was about to say more, and to join Ronon in pursuit of the Wraith, but as he opened his mouth the ground under him lurched and he stumbled unsteadily to his knees. His ears ached with the ring of a massive explosion some way up ahead. Pushing himself upright again, he peered into the smoke-filled distance.

_"Teams, this is Carter. What's going on?"_ Sam beat him to asking for a report as he felt Ronon's hand press against his chest in support.

_"Colonel,"_ Zelenka's harried voice shook over the radio link, _"We just lost one of the Jumpers. Wraith Darts came out of nowhere and started firing blind."_

"Damn it!" Sheppard pulled a face. If they kept it up, it wouldn't be long before they'd lose another of the Puddle Jumpers. "These guys are something else." He shook his head and keyed his own mic to say, "Colonel, the Wraith started pulling back, they may circle around and be heading your way." When Ronon threw a look at him he half shrugged, grimacing with the pain as he forgot his injured shoulder. "It's what I'd do."

_"John… get back to the Jumpers, get the wounded aboard and get them in the air. They're sitting targets with the Wraith searching for them like that."_ He was about to protest when she continued, _"When everyone is out of there take one of the Jumpers into orbit. We need Intel. I need to know what we're up against. You can't do any more on the ground."_

"The hell I can't," he said under his breath, but to Sam he said, "Understood."

He reached out and caught Ronon's arm as the Satedan turned, ready to go with him; to follow Colonel Carter's orders. He shook his head.

"Take Burry's team," he said, "Get after those Wraith and then head on around to give Carter and the engineers more ground support."

"But she said—" Ronon started to argue.

"I know what she said, but I can handle the evac." He sighed and then looked up at Ronon. "Carter's outnumbered over there and we gotta stop the Wraith. We can't let 'em get to McKay."

Ronon looked at him seriously for a second, and then his face split into a wide, almost maniacal grin, before he turned and, at the head of Burry's team, raced off in the direction of the Wraith.

**

Carter scrambled back up to the top of the now much lower mound of debris to look down into the opening they'd managed to enlarge. It was still not big enough for them to safely get McKay and Lorne out, especially not considering Lorne's apparent injuries, but they were working on it.

"How's it going, Rodney?" she called down.

"Slowly!" She watched him turn his head to look up at her from on his hands and knees where he still searched for the data core of Michael's computer. His voice held that familiar tone of irritated sarcasm he so often used. "And it's not helping you looking over my shoulder every few seconds."

He turned back to his search without waiting for her to answer him, so she closed her mouth again, and scrambled back down to join the engineers who were frantically working on one side of the mound.

"How much longer?" she asked.

"Hard to tell," one of them answered, "though actually, the Dart that tried to blast us to hell actually did us a favour."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he nodded to the side they were digging out. "There's a lot of debris that was loosened, that we would otherwise never have gotten out."

"Good," she said, nodding with an expression of smug satisfaction on her face.

"So long as we can keep this chain going," he nodded toward where engineers and marines alike were passing chunks of concrete, broken bricks, and other remnants of the building from person to person, and tossing them aside, "we should have them out in fifteen, maybe twenty more minutes."

"And you don't need the braces?" she asked, frowning.

"Nothing left to brace, thanks to the Wraith."

She nodded and clapped the engineer on the shoulder, and for a moment dared to feel a rush of optimism. In a little under half an hour they'd have their people out of there and in the hands of the medics. All that remained then would be to clear a way to the gate, and get everyone home.

As if to remind her that might not be too easy the whoosh of a Wraith blaster, and a fresh explosion of debris close by her head sent both her, and the engineers scrambling for cover. She, as the marines, rolled aside, bringing their weapons to bear and started to return fire.

"Keep working!" she yelled to the engineers, before leading the marines in an assault against the incoming Wraith.

There was little cover to be had, and what there was would not last long under the almost constant barrage of fire from the Wraith. Once again, they found themselves fighting to maintain what little progress they'd been able to make. She paused in firing to signal to Vega to take her men and flank the Wraith. Perhaps if they were taking fire from two directions it would slow them down.

The melodic whistle of Ronon's gun buoyed her spirits, as the Wraith half turned to face his incoming, growling assault, punctuated by the P90 fire of the accompanying marines. As she continued her own defence against the Wraith, she saw Vega take the opportunity to move to flank and for a little while at least, they had the Wraith on the defensive; their attack halted, and Carter, Ronon and Vega had the chance to regroup in a more defensible position.

It was to be only another momentary respite as, before long, Wraith reinforcements came streaming from the surrounding areas like ants from a nest, or were beamed in by Darts to join the fight.

"Colonel Carter…" She jumped as one of the engineers slid into position beside her. "We're almost ready, but you've got to keep those Wraith pinned down if we're going to have any chance of going in there to get Doctor McKay and the Major out. We go up as it is they'll pick us off one by one."

"We'll do what we can," she told him and then looked over at the others, "Ronon?"

He peeked around the low wall they sheltered behind, taking a few shots as he did before ducking back behind the bricks.

"Not a chance," he said, then looking over her shoulder, his eyes widened, and speaking quickly added, "Besides which I think we've got bigger problems – move!"

Barely had he grabbed her and virtually dragged her away from the wall, than it exploded into shards of flying brickwork as the Wraith Dart fired on their position, and with their defences destroyed, they had little choice but to mount the assault against the Wraith that Ronon had said stood no chance of success.

As soon as she dared Carter straightened up, and all but firing from the hip, turned to face the Wraith before any of them could aim through the settling dust. At her side, Ronon raised his gun, and with dreadlocks flying behind him, led the marines on a charge against the Wraith.

**

Rodney scrambled first one way, and then the other across the uneven surface, heedless of the bruises he was giving himself as he heard the sound of gunfire coming closer. What had been a narrow hole above his head was now a wide gash that opened across much of what had been the low ceiling, and almost reached down to the same level as the ground.

Not normally a coward, so _he_ liked to think, McKay gave serious consideration to just forgetting about the data core, and climbing up to the opening; cutting his losses and getting out while he could, but every time he turned in that direction the sight of the Major, sprawled immobile against the broken pile of rubble, sent him scuttling back to reach around fallen pieces of organic machinery amid the bricks and concrete, to find the data and keep it safe from the Wraith who, from the sound and proximity of the gunfire, were all but knocking on his makeshift door.

**

What had begun as a charge was ending as a defensive retreat. Using what cover among the rubble they could, Carter, Ronon and the others were being pushed back toward the where the engineers still worked to make it safe for them to get McKay and Lorne out.

"Make for the mound – higher ground!" Carter yelled at Vega, nodding toward where it looked as though someone had taken a bite out of the side of the building's rubble, but which still stood higher than ground level. She leaned up to rest her P90 against a chunk of concrete and fired a stream of bullets at the advancing Wraith to give Vega cover to make the move. "Pick them off from up there. Tell the engineers to get them out now – we'll just have to risk it!"

From the shelter of a nearby, tumbledown stack of heavy barrels, Ronon growled and let off a string of rapid shots against their assailants, slowly picking them off one by one. At least now they weren't being replaced as soon as they could be rid of them, even if they were still outnumbered.

"Where's the cavalry when you need them?" Carter called to him breathlessly as she paused in firing.

"I think this time the cavalry is on _their_ side."

The look of resignation on his face made her turn her head to look in the direction he was looking and her blood thickened to a standstill in her veins. Two Darts were closing in on their position, and closing fast.

"No!" Suddenly furious, and heedless of the Wraith still firing on her, now from behind as she turned to watch the incoming Darts, Carter got to her feet and began running toward the what was left of the building. "I won't let them _do_ this!"

Scrambling up the side of the mound of rubble beside the Captain, she raised her P90 and aimed at the lead dart, trying to take it down. Behind her, she heard that Ronon was giving her what cover he could. She wasn't even sure that she cared whether it was enough any more.

As it got closer, the lead Dart activated its culling beam, depositing a group of angry looking Wraith at the foot of the mound. Beside her Captain Vega turned her gun their way and started firing. It should have been the end.

Without a warning the mound of rubble lurched beneath her, jumping sideways and throwing both her and Carter to the ground below like fleas off a dog. The second incoming Dart fired on the mound, blackening the air with more debris. The bite-like gash opened wider in the side of the fallen building and the battlefield was stunned to silence by the shockwave of the explosion.

From inside the now open building, as the smoke and dust began to clear, came the sound of Rodney's near hysterical laughter.

"I found it! I got it... I got it!"

Still laughing, Rodney climbed to his feet and started stumbling over everything in his way to get out, and show it to her; bring it to her.

"Incoming!"

Ronon's warning shout and the whine that began to cut through the partial deafness left by the explosion made her turn again. From behind the rising cloud of smoke over the compound a Dart was coming, flying low on a path that would bring it into striking range within seconds.

"Rodney, no!" Sam tried to call a warning to him; to stop him. "Get down!"

"What?" he looked at her, puzzled, as if he couldn't quite understand what she was saying. "But I've got it, I—"

"Down!" she screamed at him, staring to rise, meaning to run to him and throw him out of harm's way, but Vega was faster. She was already on her feet and sprinting toward the doctor. She launched herself at him through the air as the whine of the Dart's engine became unbearable, but the Dart did not open fire.

Sam watched, in horror as the culling beam swept beneath its path right into the exposed heart of the building. It was barely a second before the beam disengaged and the Dart powered away, but it left her staring at the space they had fought so hard to reach where McKay, Vega and Lorne were no longer.

Barely a second more, and the sound of Ronon's blaster startled her out of her horrified paralysis, reminding her that the battle was far from over.


	3. Act 3

**Act 3**

He was dreaming. It was a terrible dream wherein he was trapped in a hole barely big enough for him to crawl around on his hands and knees. He was hurt and bleeding, but still scrambling around searching for something; something important that could mean the salvation or destruction of the Pegasus galaxy. Just when he thought he'd found it, some screaming Banshee had flown at him out of the rumbling fire of another explosion. She robbed him of his senses as she carried him down into the pit of hell filled with half Wraithlike men. They dragged him to a chamber where he was subjected to torture and partial dismemberment…

Rodney McKay surfaced slowly. The dream had been so real that the back of his head and his arm still ached from the memory of it. Moaning he tried to sit up and move his hand to wipe the last vestiges of sleep from his face. After a moment of struggling, that became increasingly more urgent as the seconds passed, he realised that he couldn't.

"Please try not to move around, Doctor McKay. I should hate for you to undo the work I've put in to ensure your good health."

"Michael!" Rodney's eyes flew open and he watched as the menacing figure that was Michael came to his side and looked down on him, where he lay, restrained against the bed.

"Of course, whether you continue to enjoy that good health is entirely in your hands," Michael continued, quietly intimidating.

"Sure," Rodney managed, somewhat more confidently than he felt, "threaten a helpless man."

"Hardly," Michael said.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, unable to help himself as he rattled his good arm against the restraints. "What am I going to do?"

"It was hardly a threat," Michael corrected him with even softer menace.

Rodney watched in alarm, refusing to take his eyes off the former Wraith as Michael attached a bag of a strange, almost luminescent, straw-coloured fluid to an IV line and then adjusted the flow. The line disappeared beneath the bandage around Rodney's forearm

"Relax, Doctor." Michael said and he cringed as Michael looked at him with wry amusement. "You lost a lot of blood after you were injured…"

"What do you care?" he snapped.

"…and I wouldn't want you dying before you tell me what I want to know." Michael concluded without missing a beat, the mild amusement replaced with a definitely threatening undertone.

Rodney swallowed hard. His bravado suddenly evaporated in the heat of Michael's gaze. "What do you want from me?" he asked.

"In time," Michael answered and then left his side to cross the room and stop next to another bed. He looked down at the occupant, whom Rodney couldn't properly see, and said almost thoughtfully, "Your companion was not quite so fortunate."

"Major Lorne?" Rodney swallowed again. "What did you do to him?"

Michael turned and glared, making Rodney wish that he could take back the words and sink into the surface of the bed. He whimpered slightly and stammered, "Well, I can't believe you'd help him purely out of the goodness of your heart – altruism, you know—"

"I fear that there is little more I _can_ do for him," Michael cut him off, adding somewhat coldly, "even out of the _goodness_ of my heart."

Slowly Michael returned to Rodney's side and looked down at him again. For a long time his wraithlike eyes bore into Rodney's, awakening every fear, every nightmare that the scientist had ever known.

"Now, tell me what you saw," Michael said almost gently.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his voice trembling.

"Don't be a fool, Doctor," Michael's gaze did not waver and the room receded into a darkness that pressed around him, threatening to suffocate him. It grabbed his primordial fears and crushed him with them until a scream began to gather in his throat as Michael asked again, "What did you see?"

_-did you see- -you see- -see-_

"You… I…" he squeaked.

"You will tell me."

_-will tell me- -tell me- -tell-_

**

"Ronon!" Carter called a warning to him in the same moment that he sensed the Wraith behind him and turned to catch the enemy warrior by the arm. He pulled him into the fist he swung into the bone cover of his face.

Without waiting to see if his pugilistic attack had been effective he snatched his weapon from his holster to fire point blank at his would be assailant , and then beyond to the others that were already running in, raising their weapons as they came.

"Ronon, get out of there!" Carter repeated the warning, as more of the bone faced warriors began to rush toward his position. He growled and instead faced off against them even more, firing time and again into their midst.

"We need to get back to the Gate while we stand at least half a chance of taking them down," he called to her. He knew he was taking a risk in rushing the Wraith as he was, but he couldn't help but notice the change in them since the incident at the compound. It was almost as if something had knocked some of the wind out of them. Though it didn't necessarily make them any less deadly, he knew they had to take advantage of even the smallest weakness.

"But not to get ourselves killed in the process." The colonel, and the men with her, advanced to his side. They fired into the Wraith warriors to give him support against the onslaught.

He turned his head and almost grinned at her, "I hadn't intended to," he said, before once more, firing with each step, he lead the colonel and the marines deeper into the Wraith held vicinity of the Gate.

**

She woke suddenly and even before she was fully awake began running her hands over herself, checking for injuries; checking for anything out of place, before opening her eyes into the dim, blue lit interior of the holding area aboard the Wraith cruiser. Quickly Alicia Vega scooted backwards until she made contact with the solid wall.

"Fine mess you made of it _this_ time girl," she told herself softly under her breath. She reached inside her uniform, inside the front of her shirt to make sure that the core she'd taken from Doctor McKay was still nestled there against her bust. She breathed a sigh of relief when, disturbed, it pinched her soft skin until she could resettle it again. "Maybe not quite a _complete_ mess then."

Narrowing her eyes a little she peered beyond the confines of her cell to try and see what she could of the rest of the ship. She could see little enough – and no Wraith at all, which as far as she was concerned was more than all right, because it meant she might live for a little while longer before one of them decided to feed on her. She frowned, her memory of how she reached the holding cell was at best hazy, at the worst, it made little sense to her…

_Scrambling over the lip of the mound she threw herself at Rodney McKay, taking him down to the ground in an inelegant tackle that knocked the breath out of her lungs and jammed the butt of her P90 painfully against her ribs. _

_The scream of the Dart grew louder, reminding her that she did not have time for discomfort, and she rolled to the side. As she did, she quickly grabbed the object from the doctor's hand and quickly shoved it down inside her shirt before she snatched her weapon into her hands and began firing _

_A tingling cold spread through her body and she lost awareness of herself for a moment. In the next heartbeat she opened her eyes to the dim interior of some kind of cavernous chamber. She lay on her back, her P90 still clutched in her suddenly unresponsive hands. Beside her lay the stunned Doctor McKay, and next to both of them the badly injured form of Major Lorne. _

_And around her, several shadowed forms. It didn't quite take the mind of a genius to work out that the outstretched arms were no doubt holding some kind of weapons… _

"They weren't Wraith, they were men," she remembered with mounting horror. That could only mean one thing, and she didn't expect it to be good news. Quickly she unfolded her legs, and climbed to her feet, approaching the web-like bars of her cell to try and find a way out.

**

In spite of her fears, things had taken a bit of an upturn as they committed themselves to Ronon's insane charge. She didn't dare let herself get complacent though, the sky was still ringing with the sound of mosquito-like Darts that were still flying search patterns, randomly firing into the ground and air alike to try and find the Jumpers she had ordered to the other side of the planet. On the ground the Wraith still outnumbered what amounted to little more than a small guerrilla force of marines by at least four to one and worst of all, it would soon be dark. However, they had managed to take, and hold a defensible position within site of the Stargate.

Ronon ducked back down, breathing hard as he pressed his back against the natural barricade behind which the two of them sheltered. Around them the sounds of gunfire provided a staccato accompaniment to his laboured breathing.

"I think I can see a way past this," he say, his voice a little hoarse from all the yelling he'd been doing.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

She watched him glance around and then he picked up a stick, and with his booted foot levelled a section of the ground in front of them to make a pallet for his diagram. Quickly he started to draw.

"Here's the Gate," he said as he made some marks in the dirt, "and here and here are the Wraith guards." He looked over at her to make sure he was following so far. She nodded and he continued, "We're here… and beyond us – here," he made another series of marks on the ground, "is the tree line. This—"

Whatever he started to say was interrupted as the natural barricade of fallen logs, overgrown with tufts of grass, exploded behind them. Almost as one, she and Ronon turned to lean up over the lip of their cover, opening up on the Wraith who had tried to take advantage in the lull of their assault.

"I got it," she yelled at him over the combined sounds of their weapons, telling him she had the diagram in her memory, "go on!"

"Just the other side of the trees is a small gully, and from the shape of the ground over there," he nodded to their side, "the gully runs out from the woods, through to the other side of the Stargate. If we could get to that point – I think it's a blind spot that could get us close enough to take out the guards."

He stopped talking for long enough to fire an uninterrupted volley of shots into an overgrown patch of foliage up ahead until a Wraith warrior came tumbling out with a smoking hole in his chest.

"How do we know there aren't more Wraith in the woods further down?" she asked, not to challenge him, but to better understand his thinking; to encourage him to develop his plan.

"We don't," he answered, "though I'd think if there were, we'd have Wraith breathing down our necks from both behind us and in front as well."

He started firing again. The high pitched sound of his weapon against the percussive sound of her P90 was staring to make her ears ring. "Good point," she yelled, and then she glanced behind her toward the trees. "It could work," she decided after a moment or two. "We'll need cover."

"Go," he told her, "I'll cover you."

"No." She put her hand onto his arm. "Your plan… you're coming with me."

"What," he turned his head to grin at her, "So you can kick my ass in case something goes wrong?"

"Something like that," she said with a smile and then she keyed her mic and called for one of the other subdivisions of her team to give them both the covering fire they needed to reach the woods.

**

Nothing she could do made the slightest difference to the bars of the holding cell. She could find no control panel to tamper with – not, she thought to herself, that doing so was a particularly good or safe idea – and neither could she damage them with anything she had to hand. With a sigh she rested her forehead against the bars.

"There is little point in your struggles."

She started, and jumped away from the bars as the figure that had spoken approached the cell. From beyond arm's reach she peered at him, taking a measure of him and shivered at the appearance of the hybrid soldier.

His skin, obviously once tan, was mottled and the veins at his temples and along his forehead stood as though engorged. His pupils were wide in the dim light, but even so she could see the pale quality of his irises.

He regarded her with cold dispassion and continued, "He will come to speak with you when he is ready."

She glared at the hybrid, trying not to let show just how much the thought of it disturbed her. "Then what do you want with me?"

The hybrid shrugged, and blinked as if the question made no sense to him, and then, holding out the bowl he had in his hands, said, "I was told to bring you food."

She took a step backwards, away from the outstretched hands and looked at the bowl as though it was a weapon pointed toward her. The hybrid remained in that posture, waiting patiently for a time, before he took another step forward and set the bowl onto the floor just inside the bars.

Vega couldn't help but take a look. The food inside had the appearance of porridge, though she doubted very much that was what it was. Taking another step back she said, "What makes you think that I'll take _anything_ you give me?"

The hybrid shrugged, "It does not matter to me if you do, or you do not," he said. "But I was told to say to you that the Geneva Conventions state: _The basic daily food rations shall be sufficient in quantity, quality and variety to keep prisoners of war in good health and to prevent loss of weight or the development of nutritional deficiencies._"

Vega blinked. If she could have made a guess at the answer he would have given, that was the furthest from her mind.

"Excuse me?" she said, nonplussed.

"The Geneva Conventions st—"

"I heard what you said," she took a step toward the bars, to peer at him more closely, wondering perhaps if she had been mistaken in identifying him as a hybrid. The same pallid skin and bulging veins, the same paling of the iris met her eyes. She had not been mistaken.

"Then what is your confusion?" he asked, creasing his face in confusion of his own.

"Since when did your..." she struggled for a way to describe the part-Wraith, part-Human creature; eventually settled on, "…boss comply with the Geneva Conventions?"

"I was told to bring you food," he repeated, starting to turn away.

Vega's mind began to race. She could use this. She could turn this to her advantage and use it to find a way out of the cell and off the ship.

"Wait!" she called. He turned back and waited for her to speak again. "What about…" she glanced around, "…you know, facilities."

"Your needs will be catered for," he said, fixing her with the kind of expression that told her he knew exactly what she would try to do, "at the appropriate time."

"And when is that?"

"He will speak with you when he is ready." The hybrid soldier turned and began to walk away, as he did so, he said, "In the mean time, I suggest you eat."

**

"This is _so_ not good," Sheppard said quietly as he manoeuvred the cloaked Jumper into orbit and threaded his way through the collection of Wraith ships gathered around one of the largest Hive ships he could ever recall seeing. Worse still, it wasn't the only one.

Beside him, he heard Zelenka take a breath. The doctor then began swivelling his head one way and another, muttering under his breath.

"I have to agree with you, Colonel," he said at last sitting down and pushing up his glasses. "By my count there are two Hives, at least three cruisers and… well I lost count when it came to the Darts."

"We are so screwed," Sheppard said, studying the heads up display that activated even as he began to wonder how accurate Zelenka's count had been. "Even if the Daedalus were to show up right now and we could take all the 302s at them, with so many we'd be hard pressed to make even an insignificant dent in their numbers."

"Maybe it would be better if we…" Zelenka said, cringing a little as they got closer to the Wraith fleet of ships, "…didn't get too close?"

"Relax, Doc," Sheppard said lazily, "We're cloaked… we're perfectly safe."

"Yes, well, you'll forgive me if I'd rather not risk my life on that," he answered. "The modifications I had to make to the cloak on the planet's surface were somewhat hasty and—"

"Now you tell me," Sheppard interrupted, and instantly began plotting a course to take them out from under the noses of the Wraith.

"I'm sorry I thought you knew."

Sheppard shook his head, and sighed as they pulled away, setting them back into their own geosynchronous orbit.

"Why did you want to get so close anyway?" Zelenka asked him after a moment.

"What… after what Sam told us you expect me _not_ to try and scan for McKay, Lorne and Vega aboard those ships?"

"Of course… right… right…"

"I figured, the closer we got the more likely we would be to find them," Sheppard said.

"And what would you have done if you had?" Zelenka looked at him with honest curiosity. His eyes blinked owlishly behind the lenses of his spectacles.

"I dunno," Sheppard had to admit. "I hadn't quite gotten that far."

"I see." Zelenka pushed his spectacles back up again and added, "As you say, it is unlikely that we would be able to pull off any kind of daring rescue, not with so many of them out there."

"Well we can't just… leave 'em." Sheppard said, horrified at the thought. "God knows what they're going through."

"On the contrary," Zelenka said sadly, "I think we can make a pretty good guess as to _exactly_ what is going on."

"Well _you're_ a bundle of laughs, Radek. Thanks for that."

"I am only trying to be realistic, Colonel." He said. "Perhaps we should let Colonel Carter know what we have discovered."

Sheppard sighed again and turned his gaze back out toward the Hive ships, and in particular the larger of the two. He couldn't help wondering at the disparity between them.

**

_"Colonel Carter, this is Sheppard. Come in."_

Slowly she lowered herself back down into the gully beside Ronon as Sheppard's voice came uncomfortably loud in her ear. She and Ronon had managed to come almost to within arms reach of the Wraith at the postern side of the Stargate and she was sure that they would have heard the Lieutenant Colonel's overly cheerful voice.

Carefully she keyed her own radio and in a stage-whisper answered, "Go ahead, John," then added after a second's thought, "quietly."

When he spoke again his voice was much more subdued. _"We have a little more company than we expected."_

"What do you mean?" she asked.

_"Two Hives."_

"Two!" she yelped, forgetting herself, then jumped as Ronon grabbed her and dragged her further down into the gully, all but covering her with the bulk of his form. Dressed as he was in more natural earthen toned clothing, he was much better camouflaged than she.

"Stand by," she hissed into her radio as she heard the Wraith start to move and then, daring to raise her head, watched as a pair of warriors left their positions and approached, peering into the undergrowth and the trees beyond. She held her breath and tightened her grip on her weapon.

Beside her, Ronon moved slowly, reaching down to the sheath on his thigh to close his hand around the hilt of the knife it contained. He barely moved more than an inch with each of his slow breaths. Every muscle was under tight control.

Step by step the booted feet of the Wraith came closer until one of them stood on the very lip of the gully almost directly above them. She could hear his breathing, his almost growling hiss as he continued to peer beyond their hiding place.

An intense chill began to descend on Sam as she prayed Sheppard would continue to be patient. The click of her radio now would give them away as surely as if she were to stand up right in front of the Wraith.

Her head began to swim and her lungs burned for lack of air, but she dare not take a breath; fought to keep her body from automatically obeying its need. She glanced at Ronon again, and saw that he was tensing, preparing for action. If they had to move against the single Wraith, who now stood over them, their timing would have to be perfect. They couldn't afford to alert the others, otherwise their careful approach would have been for nothing and with the news that Sheppard had just delivered, the need to retake the Gate was even more vital now.

As quietly as she could she took in a long slow breath and watched as Ronon turned his head to try and locate the other Wraith. She realised, somewhat sheepishly, that in concentrating on the more immediate threat of the warrior that stood over them she had neglected to consider the possibility that the other might take a position that would completely compromise their stealthy approach. Their pincer assault would be over. Carefully, she too looked around to try and see where the Wraith was, so that she could predict what their best course of action would be. The second warrior had, it seemed, lost interest in the search and had begun to return to his place beside the Gate. For the moment at least, it seemed that the best strategy were to try and wait it out.

Not for the first time she found herself cursing the Wraith's telepathic abilities. An assault against any other enemy from this position would simply be a case of making a grab for the one above them and taking him out. She had faith in Ronon's ability to do such a thing with a reasonable amount of stealth, but the minute that either one of them moved against any of the Wraith, each one of the patrol by the Gate would know of their presence.

**

"Maybe we should contact her again," Zelenka looked across at him with a frown on his face.

He shook his head, though every sense was nagging at him to do _something_ when several minutes had elapsed without any contact from Sam. "She said to stand by," Sheppard said.

"I know what she said, Colonel," the scientist answered, somewhat testily, he thought. "But what if she's hurt… or needs something – what if she needs something?"

"If she needed us she would have called," Sheppard reasoned, but it was as much for himself as it was for Zelenka. He had a bad feeling and it was growing more and more acute by the moment.

"What if she can't?"

"If she can't she…" he trailed off, having no answer to that.

"You see," Zelenka said triumphantly, "I told you we should contact her."

Again he shook his head.

"But Colonel," the Czech began, "You said—"

"I'll do you one better than that," Sheppard said, and leaned a little in spite of the inertial dampeners when the Jumper banked as he began to search for a favourable vector for re-entry. He was looking for one that wouldn't give away their position. "After all, there's not much we can do up here now, is there?"

Zelenka frowned for a moment, and then his face came alive, his eyes going wide as he obviously realised what he intended to do. "No, I suppose not," he agreed with a quirky smile finding its way to his face.

"All we have to do is find an approach that doesn't paint a bright red bull's-eye on our ass and—"

"Wait!" Zelenka suddenly pointed at the heads up. "What was that?"

"What was what?" he asked, peering at the display.

"Go back up. Go back around," Zelenka told him.

"A minute ago you were all right with my plan," Sheppard said lazily, though it didn't stop him from doing as Zelenka said. When it came to reading sensor data he trusted the man almost as much as he did Rodney – if not more. "Now you want to stay up here with all these Wrai—"

"There." The scientist pointed at the forward display again, and this time he too saw the momentary ghost on the sensors. "What is that, a glitch? I didn't think I'd disturbed the sensors when I rerouted power to the cloaking generator, but—"

"That's no glitch," he said, his eyes narrowed as he realised what the presence of a third ship, masked behind the planet's moon, must mean. He brought the Jumper around again, bringing it to a stop at just the moment the ship became visible to the sensors.

"Then what?" Zelenka asked, still not catching on, "Another Hive? It isn't big enough for a Hive. It—"

Through clenched teeth Sheppard said, angrily, "Michael."

**

A momentary vibration passed through the ground. Sam frowned and her heart began to sink still further as she realised the vibration was a prelude to the activation of the Gate. How many more were they going to send? How many more did they need? With Two Hives in orbit, and outnumbering them on the ground, why would the Wraith need to send _more_ troops?

A light tap on her arm pulled her out of her angry contemplation and she glanced over at Ronon, only to have him nod upwards. Following his lead, she looked up to watch as the Wraith left the lip of the gully and start toward rejoining the rest of his patrol, who were taking up positions in front of the Gate. Not the Wraith then?

_"Expedition teams, this is Atlantis, come in please."_

"Damn it," she hissed. "Atlantis, this is Carter. This is not a good time…" She tried to speak quietly, but it was already too late. The retreating Wraith had heard the radio engage, and turned back toward her position. Abandoning stealth, with Ronon already moving at her side, she called to the rest of the marines to provide supporting fire, to at least give her and Ronon a chance to withdraw to safety.

Only Ronon was evidently not in the mood for retreat and was already scrambling over the lip of the gully _toward_ the Wraith.

"Ronon!" she called to him, but he ignored her and taking out his gun began firing at the Wraith as he went.

Sam swore again and called out quickly into her radio, "All teams - move on the Gate - go, go, go!"

Suddenly the area around the Gate was a rattling cacophony of P90 fire, percussive explosions from the blasters, and the high pitched whistle of Ronon's weapon as the marines pushed forward in an all out effort to take back the Gate from their Wraith enemies.

Sam dropped to one knee, tiling her head and her weapon to take a better aim at a group of three Wraith heading toward where Ronon was already embroiled in a fierce hand to hand battle with two of the biggest warriors she thought she had ever seen.

Catching the incoming raking claw of one of the warriors he faced, Ronon kicked out at the other as he pulled the first toward his waiting fist, to shatter the bone covering from his face and send him staggering backwards. In the meantime he turned almost full circle, letting the momentum add power to the attack against the second who, recovering from the kick to his chest, came back at Ronon growling and hissing like an angry alley-cat.

_"Colonel Carter, we have security teams standing by, do you need back up?"_

Sam couldn't help looking around at the pockets of fighting scattered around the Gate, at the numbers of marines over-run by the number of Wraith. Certainly they were making _some_ headway, but it would undeniably even the odds of success if she could boost their numbers. In spite of that she answered, "Negative, Atlantis. What was it you wanted?"

_"We dialled in to let you know that Daedalus in en route. We would have informed you when she left, but…we were unable to dial in at the time."_

Sam nodded to herself. If Atlantis had been unable to dial in when Daedalus set out, that would mean it was around the time that the Wraith first showed up and could well mean the ship would reach them at any time. "Understood, Atlantis," she said, raising her voice over the chatter of her weapon's fire as she turned her aim against a second group of Wraith heading her way. "Have the infirmary standing by. As soon as we can secure the Gate we'll begin sending back the wounded. Contact Colonel Caldwell and inform him of two Wraith Hive ships - I repeat, _two_ Wraith Hives, in planetary orbit. One of them took some of our people. He might want to come out of hyperspace a little early and come in cloaked."

_"Understood, Colonel."_ Atlantis confirmed.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she began to register an overloud mosquito-whine coming from somewhere up above. The next moment she was hit by the flying brick wall that was Ronon, and thrown aside. The ground beside the two of them exploded in clumps of earth and rock and scorching fire.

She didn't have time even to nod her thanks at Ronon before he was pushing at her, encouraging her to move again with a shout of, "Darts!"

Scrambling to her feet, she turned her P90 skyward to try and pepper the incoming darts while Ronon provided her cover from the Wraith ground forces. Once again, just when she felt the slightest glimmer of hope stirring within her, matters had taken another downturn.

"Atlantis – about that help," she said, "Any chance of sending through just a couple of personnel with ground to air missiles?"

_"We'll see what we can do, Colonel. It may take a few minutes."_

She bit her lip, seriously wondering if they could actually hold out that long. Perhaps if they could engage the Darts with one or two of the Jumpers they might stand a better chance. "Sheppard, this is Carter."

_"I hear you,"_ he answered, and she thought she detected a somewhat hard edge to the lazy tone he used. She frowned.

"Anything wrong?" she asked in spite of the pressing need.

_"Just peachy,"_ he said sarcastically, but he didn't elaborate, and she didn't have the time to spend teasing it out of him. _"What do you need?"_

"We're at the Gate," she paused to fire a stream of bullets into the Dart that was beginning a second strafing run. "We need air support to get these Darts out of our hair."

There was a long pause, before Sheppard came back. _"Stand by, Colonel. I think I have a better idea."_

**

The last time Rodney could remember feeling this way, he had been lying in the infirmary on Atlantis and though he'd felt just as sick, and light headed – there had been none of the associated pain. Dizzy too, he'd been just as dizzy. No matter how hard he tried, either with his eyes closed or open as they were, everything still spun around, and right at the middle of it all was Michael.

"I can't tell you what I don't know," he moaned as Michael swam into focus again.

"I understand that, Doctor," Michael answered, this time, mercifully unaccompanied by the mental intrusion that had become more painful than the worst migraine he had ever suffered. "But I know that you were able to identify Gate addresses—"

"—I don't remember any of them—"

"—my communication codes—" Michael harried him.

"—Do you know how many elements even one of the most simple ciphers—" he moaned as he saw and felt Michael move even closer still. "Of course you do."

"And my research?"

"I can't _tell_ you what I don't remember," he all but screamed as Michael's tone bore a great deal of menace once more.

"Then tell me what you do," he growled. "What do you remember?"

_-remember- -remember- -remember-_

A pain that was at once crushing and like a stabbing heat exploded around and through his mind. His stomach lurched and nausea gripped him. The room began to spin more quickly and he closed his eyes, only to see before him the spinning image of the screen, covered with Michael's data. The pain only increased, forcing him backward through the memory of it, making his burning blood run suddenly cold with the effort of blocking the intrusion and—

"Michael…"

An almost gentle voice loosened the vice the half-Wraith was inside his head and McKay opened his eyes again.

"Teyla," Rodney gasped as he identified the blurry figure that stood just behind Michael. "You're alive!"

**

She knew Michael was aware of her arrival. She could feel the answering touch of his mind, and the flutter of movement within her as the child too sensed their connection. Michael's anger and frustration were as clear to her as well, but even so, she was surprised when he did not break from the interrogation until, standing behind him, she softly called his name.

"Teyla…" She focussed her attention on Michael even though Rodney gasped her name and continued in a surprised whisper, "You're alive!"

The vehemence with which Michael reacted to the simple statement almost made her take a backwards step, as he all but growled at Rodney. The rumbling hiss in the back of his throat was both a reminder of his heritage and of that which he had become at the hands of the Atlantis expedition. In the same moment that she heard McKay's resulting cry of pain, she felt Michael's crushing grip on the scientist's mind increasing, the echo of Michael's fury at the insinuations in McKay's statement rolling, wavelike, over his synapses.

Teyla's stomach turned full circle inside her. Her breath became shallow and moisture gathered behind her eyes in recognition, not for the first time, of Michael's emotional investment in all that he did.

"Michael," she called to him again, this time reaching for him with a hand that held a slight tremor, "…please…"

He turned quickly, releasing McKay who, with hardly a whimper, fell back against the bed, barely conscious. As Michael turned he caught the wrist of her still outstretched hand, his fingers closing over the fabric of her sleeve.

"What's this?" he asked almost softly.

"What is what?" She pulled just slightly against his gently restraining grasp. He did not let go. Instead he ran the back of his free hand slowly along the side of her own, beside her little finger where it trembled still.

The touch was almost imperceptible, but for the whisper of heat that blossomed outward from it. The air caught against her frozen diaphragm and she found herself looking up into the darkness of the concern in his eyes. She dare not breathe, or could not and was uncertain which as his mind touched hers more strongly…

_A promise of strength and health – concern and a lingering anger at the thought of harm to her – with an intensity that was almost sensual._

…she felt her heart beating low in her body, everywhere sensitive to each atom of her being.

"I… was concerned for what your continued interrogation might do to Doctor McKay," she stammered, even knowing that through their connection, the partial lie was pointless. She could not understand the sudden strength of her emotion and it was unsettling, frightening.

Michael tilted his head to one side and regarded her. Curiosity, and something else she could not quite place, softened the frown that had been etched on his face. She tugged again on his grasp as he continued to hold her wrist, but was unable to free herself even from his light restraint. She was unable to dismiss the feeling that he was playing with her and yet knew, from somewhere deep and hidden inside of herself, that he was not. Was it this she fought, as she tried to free herself?

"I think you understand far better than you allow yourself to believe, Teyla." His soft but serious words, and his use of her name, sent a shiver through her. She drew in a deep and shuddering breath at the thought and forced herself to stillness. He tilted his head from one side to the other. "From the first time we met, even before we came to blows—"

"You _remember_ that?" she could not help the surprise from showing in her voice… in the way she looked at him… for just a moment seeing not the hybrid he had become, but the Wraith he had once been.

He let out a long, slow breath, his eyes burning into hers and she was unable to look away. She felt her colour rise, and swallowed.

"Over time," he confirmed, "I have come to remember."

"I… it… It changes _nothing,_ Michael," she told him, and even to her own ears the conviction of her words was lacking.

"No?" he answered with an amused questioning tone. His eyes flicked down for a moment before returning to rest in hers. Slowly, almost not daring to see, she looked down, to find that he no longer held her wrist and yet, the fingers of her own hand rested almost quiescent along his arm.

Trying to appear casual she began to slide her hand away, willing away the trembling she felt beginning again. Michael quickly closed his fingers before hers could graze the palm of his hand.

She blinked at him, feeling the echo of his reticence to touch, to save her from himself, burn along the connection they shared perhaps more deeply in that moment than at any time that they had shared together. Again her stomach and her rapidly beating heart exchanged their places in her small frame. She took in a hurried breath.

"Michael, you cannot—" she began, though the words were unnecessary. She knew; felt that he anticipated her words.

"That is not the only reason, Teyla." he told her almost hesitantly, almost more softly than he had ever spoken to her. "I can still be dangerous to you."

She felt his concern strengthen, a hint of the same pressing fear that she had felt surrounded some part of him, in the deep places of his mind, where he would not normally allow her ingress. Curious, she pushed, expecting in that moment he would shut her out and push her away as he had always done before.

_Memory… a long and darkened hallway and a doorway ahead. Guards with covered faces… and a chamber… an important place_

She looked up at him, her gaze lost in the golden stare he fixed on her. He took a step closer, and slowly began to move around behind her, to move from between where she stood and the bed that held McKay. A part of her knew she should help the doctor, tend to him, but so great a chance to understand a part of Michael she had never seen could not be allowed to pass her by, not when she knew from Michael's own understanding that Rodney was not in any immediate danger.

_A darkened chamber…the only light a swirling mass of colour from above… pulsing to a heartbeat… a burning… a hunger_

She turned her head to follow his movement, to keep him with her view. She should have turned when he came around her shoulder and she could no longer see him, but could almost still feel him there behind her… close. In spite of every sense of danger within her, and the painful echo of the same from Michael she pushed still further, pushing against him now that he was aware of just what she was doing.

_Weakness within strength… a dizzying need… overwhelming_

Her breathing became shallower and she began to feel light headed. She closed her eyes against the fluid spin of the room before her. The blue light of the walls pressed inwards. She reached out toward the bed to steady herself, but it was too far away. Her head fell back…

_Denial… pain…_

He was there, behind her… His arm came around her, beneath her own outstretched arm and wrapped around her body, pressed against her shoulder to hold her to him as he stepped closer still to balance her weight. She could feel his breath against the side of her head; his heat against her spine…

_And a mental barrier… strong… but he was tiring… weakening… _

_-Teyla don't! No!- -Teyla don't!- Teyla- _

_A presence… anger… cold fury. _

…_Michael……Michael… _

_=I will find you= _

"Michael!" she called out to him in panic at the malevolence which flooded into her. It was raw and angry… violence incarnate. It gripped every part of her, threatening to crush her and at the same time tear her into atoms. She felt the movement of her child become as frantic as her breath, and unaware entirely of what she was doing she clutched at his supporting arm, at the same time fighting to be free of him, fighting his grasp. "Why!"

"Don't," he told her and moved to cup her face in his other hand, keep her head against his shoulder. "Teyla, stop. Let go."

She felt him take in the deepest of breaths, felt the heat of it as he exhaled, long and slow. The pain she felt began to soften, to recede… the trashing of the child within her slowed, and the vice around her lungs, stopping her own breath loosened. She took in a deep breath… and as the panic lessened she stopped struggling.

"Why is she doing this?" the words came out as little more than a breathless whisper as the warmth of Michael's hand came away from her cheek. Seeking a moment's solace she did not lift her head from his shoulder, but turned it against his chest and found some small measure of comfort in his rapid, but slowing heartbeat.

"She is dangerous," his voice rumbled in his chest. "She will stop at nothing, Teyla. Don't try to find her and connect with her."

Taking another breath she started to turn in his supportive embrace, to look up at him.

"But Michael, why? What does she _want_ with you?" she asked.

The edges of a wry smile twitched at his lips, and the smallest of breathy, humourless laughs escaped him. But he tilted his head to look at her, and in his eyes she thought she saw the echo of pain, regret. When he raised his hand toward her cheek she froze, uncertain, very unsettled by what had just happened. She barely felt the softest of touches as he brushed back her hair from her cheek with the back of his hand.

"What do any of them want?" he said, blinking. "She knows of the threat I pose to her, and all of the Wraith." He blinked again, and let his hand fall away, as if suddenly becoming aware. His voice became clipped once more, and his gaze dropped momentarily to take in the curve of her belly. "She seeks to undo my work."

Suddenly Teyla felt her fear replaced by rising anger. The soft expression she had fixed on him hardened and she stepped backwards, away from him until she collided with the bed on which the doctor lay, slowly becoming more conscious again.

"And so because of what you have done to me, my child and I will be hunted by the Wraith." she found herself tearful in her anger and had to try hard to block out the hurt that entered his eyes at her tone and her actions. She would have said more, but then Rodney moaned, and she went to the doctor's side. Michael did not try to stop her, but followed her, staying close as though to remain as a protection.

"You should consider perhaps that he is telling you the truth. That he knows and remembers nothing," she snapped.

"You know I have seen that he does," he countered.

She felt him turn to watch her as she crossed the room to fill a bowl with cool water, and bring it, with a cloth, back to Rodney's side. She was certain that he could tell, and felt his possessiveness rise around her again, that her hand shook dreadfully as she wet the cloth and gently mopped the doctor's brow, and cheeks. She had been shaken by so many things in the last few minutes, felt many emotions mixed up inside her, that she fought to concentrate on even so simple a task.

"Teyla," Rodney moaned.

"It is all right, Doctor McKay," she said to him softly, her voice cracked slightly as she spoke and, wetting the cloth again, she repeated the mopping of his brow, focussing on the mundane to try and steady herself, before settling the cold wet cloth against his head. "I am here."

After a moment she turned again to face Michael, and then glanced beyond him to the immobile figure on the other bed. This one was shrouded in a kind of cloth-like film, and around the bed, equipment hummed and Wraith text scrolled across a screen. She asked, "What of Major Lorne?"

"I have done everything possible," he told her. "There is nothing more I can do for him."

She drew her gaze back to Michael, who tilted his head again to regard her, to show her the truth and sincerity of what he had told her. She found that she did not at all doubt him. "And what will you do with Doctor McKay? I cannot believe that you went to the trouble of tending his injuries only to kill him."

"He will not be harmed. You have my word," he told her softly, and then a little more forcefully added, "So long as he tells me what I want to know."

**

"All right," Sheppard almost crooned, carefully manoeuvring the Jumper through the many Darts that were flying, like sentries, around the Hive ships. "Let's see what we can find."

"Colonel," Zelenka said nervously, "I really think it is not a good idea to get so close to these things. Even cloaked there is no guarantee that they will not detect our scanning them and… find us out."

"I know, I know," he said, far more light heartedly than he felt, "But the closer we get the more likely it is that we'll be able to find out which of these ships has Rodney and the Major and the success of my plan depends on knowing which of these ships to target once the Daedalus gets within range."

"So you said the last time, Colonel Sheppard," Zelenka nodded, "Just—"

"You're nervous… I get it." Sheppard glanced over at him. "Relax. I've done this a hundred times. Scanning for transceivers…" he frowned. "Oh crap!"

"Oh my God, what is it!" Zelenka almost jumped out of his seat, and began looking out of every side of the forward screen.

"It's what I was afraid of," Sheppard said, and even though it was serious, he had to try to contain the chuckle at Zelenka's panic. "There's no sign of them on either of the ships. That can only mean—"

"That Michael has them," Radek finished his sentence, and added, "I'll thank you not to do that again. Do you think it's funny, to scare me like that, hmm?"

"Radek, I'm sorry," he said, and truly meant it. He slowly banked the Jumper and threaded his way out of the furthest reaches of the Darts' web around the Hives, before heading toward the rendezvous coordinates, where the Daedalus would exit hyperspace. "It does complicate matters though…"

"Why?" the scientist wanted to know, "I do not see how it is any different than before."

"Because what I have planned… Michael will already have thought of," he answered with a solemn sigh.

**

This time she was waiting for him as he entered her chamber. She was agitated – pacing.

_=He is near… I can feel him= _

_~Neither my scans, nor those of your own Hive detect anything~ _

She came at him then, her blade tipped fingers raised and quivering in barely held tension before his face. He took a breath and held his ground, aware that if she had stopped on her own then still she valued the contribution he could bring to their alliance.

"Do you _dare_ to contradict me?" she hissed, "You have too much consorted with the humans."

"I will ensure that we scan the area again," he gave her a little bow, only then did she lower her hand. She walked around him again. He felt her looking him up and down, and when she was once more standing in front of him, became almost mesmerised by the way she swayed her head from one side to the other as she regarded him.

Finally she straightened and let out a hissing breath, her mind pushing at his again… searching. He opened his mind to her, rather than endure the pressure of it, except for one small place in his memory even as he assured her that he would tell her anything. She sought to know the progress on his research.

_~It would be easier, if I were to have a subject on which to experiment~ _

She growled long and deep in the back of her throat… pulling back her mind from his, but even so he caught a glimpse of her thoughts… and even though it took a great deal to unsettle him after all he had been through, he trembled at them.

**

Alicia Vega looked up at the sound of footsteps, expecting another of the hybrid soldiers bringing her the things she had asked for. She started to rise, and cross to the bars to receive them, but stopped when she saw that she was mistaken.

"I trust that my soldiers have treated you with courtesy," Michael said firmly in a clipped voice. The voice was deep, with but barely a hint of the two toned echo she had heard of Wraith voices. She had seen the archive tapes Atlantis kept on this particular Wraith, or Wraith-Human hybrid, she reminded herself. She was more than a little taken aback at how changed he was. How unlike the images she had seen from the security footage of his last visit to the city of the Ancients. It was a difference that disturbed her in how similar and yet utterly alien he looked to her.

When he tilted his head in query she realised he was still waiting for an answer, and stammered, "They've been most cordial, yes."

"I'm told you've asked for clothing, and for bathing facilities to be brought to you," he said. So they did report everything to him.

"Yes, in accordance with articles twenty seven and twenty nine of the Geneva Con—"

"I am fully aware of your Articles of War, Alicia Vega, Captain, 502011972," he said in an equally clipped voice, though she thought, somewhat with irritation. He waved his hand in front of a panel in the cell door, and the web spiralled outward to form a doorway, to allow him to stand before her with nothing between them. Instinct made her take a step back as he stepped inside. "But what makes you believe they carry any weight in the Pegasus Galaxy?"

"You provided me with food. Article Twenty si—"

"Did I?" he tilted his head again and took a step forward. She backed up another step. She was trying to be strong, but each time he spoke, he chipped away at her confidence piece by piece. She felt entirely foolish when, in the next moment, two of his soldiers entered the cell behind him.

One of them carried a large bowl, and a jug which was steaming slightly in the chill air of the ship. The other held folded linen, a blanket and a set of civilian clothing. They put them down on one of the benches at the side of the cell and left without a word.

Michael did not move. "The things that you asked for," he said.

Vega stood staring at him. She took a breath and, with as much bluster as she could, snapped, "What, you're going to stand there and watch?"

He took another step forward and ignoring her completely he said. "You have something that belongs to me."

"No, I…" she took another step back. "I don't think so."

"I will ask you one more time," his jaw tightened and he took another step toward her.

"I don't know what you're talking about?"

He moved more quickly than she expected, closing the rest of the distance between them. She backed up until she was pressed against the bulkhead wall, and still he came on.

"Don't play games with me, Captain!" he growled. She tried to dodge sideways as he reached for her, but his hand slammed against the bulkhead, cutting off her escape. "The memory storage unit from my computer, where is it?"

"Doc… Doctor McKay he—" she stuttered, turning her face away from his still outstretched arm that was braced against the wall beside her.

"I have already spoken with Doctor McKay," he leaned closer and spoke in a low and vicious tone, "and he has more than adequately convinced me that just before my Dart took you aboard; before the Wraith fired on what was left of the rubble, you were the one that grabbed him and took it from his hand."

"I—" she started, but before she could voice another work of the lie she was about to tell, she felt his hand close in her hair and a moment later he pulled her head back, painfully, until she looked up into his eyes. Terrified she started to reach for his hand with her own that was not pinned to her side by his nearness. She struggled to free herself, but he slapped her hand away, and then caught her wrist to pin her to the bulkhead.

"Wrong choice, Captain," he told her, towering over her, appearing massive, deadly. "Let's not make this any more unpleasant that it needs to be."

Her imagination began to weave images of hideous experiments, vivid and lurid impressions of pain and suffering; of what would be once he was done with her – finished with and left to _live_ with what was, instead of made to die. Her knees weakened and she pressed backwards, ignoring the pain as the movement pulled at her roots, as far away from him as she could get.

"Shirt," she barely managed to force the words from her lips. "In my shirt."

Still holding her by the hair he released her other arm, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on her face. She had the fleeting thought, as she unfastened the buttons at the top of the garment and slipped her hand inside, that he was at least allowing her some small shred of dignity. The thought offered her little comfort.

As quickly as her near paralysed muscles would allow she reached inside her shirt and plucked the memory module from her undergarment. She held it out toward him.

Slowly he unwound his fingers from her hair as he took the component from her trembling hand. Then without another word to her, he turned and started to the door.

"Wait," she called after him, "What… what are you going to do to me?"

He paused in the doorway and looked back at her over his shoulder. The cold amusement in his eyes withered what was left of her spirit.

"It is already done," he told her.

**

"Colonel Caldwell," Sheppard sighed as he stepped onto the battle bridge of the Daedalus. He'd wanted to be involved in the execution of his plan, but while he was more than capable of flying a Puddle Jumper in his current state, flying an F302 in a combat situation was an entirely different matter. He would need both hands and a sharp mind to pull off the manoeuvres necessary, and frankly there was a full platoon of marines inside his head beating a military tattoo.

"Colonel Sheppard, you're taking one hell of a risk with our people's lives," Caldwell said.

"Yes sir, but I don't see any other way. Our people on the ground are overrun by Wraith ground troops. Darts are beaming in new forces the minute we start to clear them and we can't get to the Gate to get the wounded out." Sheppard spoke quickly as Daedalus came closer to the Hives, under cloak, and running silent.

"Even so—" Caldwell tried to interrupt.

Sheppard shook his head, "Due respect, Sir," he said, "the only way to draw those Darts away from our people is to attack the Hives and even with support from the Daedalus and all the 302s she carries, we don't have that kind of firepower."

"And you think the best way of supplementing our firepower is by setting Michael and the Wraith at each other's throats."

"Yes Sir,"

"Even knowing that's exactly what Michael will expect."

"Yes Sir"

Caldwell sighed and shook his head. "I sure as hell hope you know what you're doing."

John Sheppard turned and looked out through the main view screen at the sight of the two Wraith Hives and their supporting armada. "So do I," he said under his breath. "So do I."


	4. Act 4 & 5

**Act 4**

Ronon ducked and covered the side of his head with his arm as the low flying Dart exploded into a ball of flaming pieces that came hurtling his way. When the heat no longer scorched the air around his head he looked over at Carter, and at the smoking tube she still balanced on her shoulder and said, "You might want to try using those things when the Darts are a little further away next time."

He was teasing, and it was good natured. His spirits had lifted a little since the arrival of the additional ordnance. They were still hard pressed by the Wraith, but at least now they were able to take out some of the Darts that came at them. It was starting to cut down on the numbers of Wraith on the ground, as they were unable to beam them in, and that meant his people were getting closer to their objective.

Beside him, Carter turned and grinned at him and then dropped the missile launcher beside her and snatched up her P90 ready to take on the Wraith warriors already bearing down on their position.

Ronon glanced at the groups of marines fighting around them still fighting in close quarters with the Wraith, and others further out, still filling the air with the rattle of their weapons as they sought to keep the rest of the Wraith from joining in the hand to hand combat. It wasn't going to be easy.

He sighed as another pair of Darts flew overhead taking advantage of the break in the firing of ground to air missiles, and beamed in two more groups of Wraith warriors, before shaking the ground with the thunderous explosions of their incoming strafing runs toward the Gate.

"Come on, Sheppard," he said under his breath, and looked to the sky as if the Colonel would hear him. "Where's this better idea of yours?"

**

"They're going to come after you," McKay finally opened his mouth to voice the thought that had been going through his mind as long as he had been watching Michael move around the laboratory, silently engaged in his work. Michael straightened up from the instrument he was working with, his back straight, head tilted at an angle as though he was considering the words, but he did not offer an answer. "You won't get away with this, you know that."

"Then what would you have me do, Doctor McKay, surrender?"

"Well, it's an option," McKay tried, "I mean—"

Michael turned from his work then to fix him with a serious expression as though he was unsure if McKay expected him to believe him. He watched the succession of memories pass across Michael's face, barely perceptible but for the deepening of the frown and the darkening of his pupils. It wasn't long before McKay realised he had misspoken.

"—Right… yeah," he said quickly, "Maybe not."

"Once. Perhaps," Michael said as he crossed the room toward him, surprisingly calmly for the fire of anger that Rodney could see burning coldly in his eyes. "There had been the option of working together with your Atlantis expedition, but I think you realise as well as do I that it will never happen. Not any more."

McKay watched him, hawk-like as he reached for the clip on the line leading into the cannula and flicked it closed. Even knowing what Michael was about to do, McKay still flinched when he turned and picked up a sharp scalpel from a nearby instrument tray.

"You will not be harmed, Doctor, so long as you cooperate. I have given my word to that." He froze as Michael slipped the scalpel beneath the bandage that secured the drip into his arm, and began to cut the bandage away, still watching Michael's every move. "And I am certain that I can find… some role for you within my army."

"And what makes you think that I'll cooperate," McKay said, flinching only slightly as Michael withdrew the needle from his arm and secured a gauze pad into place.

"I can be," Michael looked up into his eyes then, and Rodney couldn't help but swallow at the expression he saw, "very persuasive. As well you're aware."

"At this stage, Michael, what's the worst you can do to me? Kill me? That's going to happen anyway – if not you, then the Wraith, so it's hardly a threat." He was on a roll, his instinct for self preservation overriding his good sense not to keep talking and risk aggravating Michael still further. "You've already said that Lorne is dying so—"

"I said there was nothing more I could do for him; that I have done everything that I can. Not that he is dying." Michael interrupted.

"Oh no," Rodney shook his head, glancing over to Lorne, "No, no, no. I'm not going to let you hold him over my head like some— I'm not—"

"Ah yes," Michael smiled wryly, "The good Doctor Beckett."

He began to walk away, back over to where Lorne lay amid what Rodney could only assume was medical equipment that was helping to keep the major alive.

"He and I worked very well together," Michael continued, almost as though he was somehow nostalgic, reminiscing. "He had a brilliant mind. I managed to complete a great deal more of my research while working with him. Human genetics are so… malleable, so—"

"He's not even the real Carson!"

Michael looked up from making a slight adjustment to the machinery around Lorne, glancing over his shoulder toward Rodney.

"I see," he said softly. "He was your friend."

"_Is_," he insisted, "You keep talking about him in the past tense."

Michael turned away from Lorne to look at him face on once more. "Doctor Carson Beckett is dead, Doctor McKay."

"But you, you—"

"I created a clone, manipulated his DNA to allow the imprinting of his memories, his personality—" One of the machines in the laboratory let out a soft series of bleeps interrupting him, and Michael turned his head quickly in that direction and then began to walk toward the equipment, to make adjustments and lean down to study an image that had appeared on a small screen on the front of the device. "No matter… you and the others will soon understand that there is nothing you can do to prevent the inevitable. That which has been set in motion; that will be completed when the child is born—"

"Teyla," McKay said, looking around as though he expected to see her. "Where is she? What have you done to her?"

Michael stiffened, and growled slightly as the words left McKay's mouth. "She is in her quarters. Resting," he said in a tone that almost dared Rodney to contradict him, to question him further about Teyla. Before Rodney could weigh the pros and cons of trying to find out more about Michael and his plans by pushing him, he added, "And before you ask, Captain Vega is comfortable, and in the holding area." He turned again then, and met Rodney's gaze. The darkened gold of his eyes almost glowed in the dim light of the laboratory. "She was… persuaded to give me the computer component you took from my facility. Thank you, Doctor."

The chill with which the words were infused crossed the space between them in the small laboratory and wrapped itself around Rodney's already fearful mind.

**

"Colonel," the Con. Officer's voice broke in on Sheppard's darkening thoughts making him jump. "We're in range."

"All stop," Caldwell ordered, and then turned to Sheppard, "Point of no return, Sheppard. It's your call but for what it's worth I still think it's a bad idea."

"We have no choice, Colonel," he answered, turning again to look out of the view screen. "We need to stir up the whole nest of hornets if we're going to have any chance of getting our people out."

"And even then you're running the risk of one of these Wraith bastards blowing Michael's cruiser to hell and our people along with it."

Sheppard shook his head. "Michael won't let that happen. He's not stupid. He deliberately put that moon between him and the Hives. He was expecting them and he knows he won't stay hidden forever." He looked over at Zelenka to help him out with the intricacies of the plan.

"We're just going to use the distraction to slip in, disable Michael's comm. array so we can fly the Daedalus in and beam out McKay and the others," the scientist explained simplistically, and pushed his spectacles up along his nose.

Sheppard threw him a none-too-appreciative look. He could have explained it in those simple terms himself and had expected Zelenka to explain more fully the importance of being able to disable the comm. array on the cruiser. Zelenka just shrugged apologetically.

Caldwell sighed and shook his head, but said, "All right. If you think this will work…" he turned to his bridge crew and ordered, "Exit silent running. Fighter crews to the three-oh-twos. Disengage the cloak."

Sheppard couldn't help but hold his breath. Almost as soon as the cloak disengaged the noses of at least a half dozen Wraith Darts and one of the cruisers flying along side the Hives turned their way. Even before the Con. Officer called out, "They've seen us," he knew that they were now committed.

"Raise shields," Caldwell ordered, taking his place in the command chair. "Charge Asgard weapons."

Sheppard sighed again. He felt useless. He met Zelenka's worried gaze across the bridge and flinched as the shields flared briefly when the first of the Darts fired on the Daedalus.

"Our fighters are away."

"Let's see it," Caldwell answered.

Immediately, in front of the view screen, the large heads up winked into view as the sensors relayed the action in theatre. Sheppard watched the F302s head in the direction of the Hives, weaving and dodging around the ever protective Darts, following their orders to capture the attention of the Wraith commanders; to lead as many of the ships as possible toward Michael.

**

Rodney had lost track of the time that he had watched in silence as Michael alternated his attention between his scientific instruments, and tending to Major Lorne. He seemed alive to the nuances; to the changes in tone and pitch of the machinery around Lorne which in hindsight Rodney could easily hear, but which at the time had been barely perceptible.

He saw Michael make yet more adjustments at one of the panels, and then stand watching the display, immobile except for the occasional glance down onto the figure of the Major.

"Answer something?" Rodney said, unable to stand the silence any longer, bursting with hundreds of thoughts and even more questions about the scientific elements of Michael's work in spite of his flat refusal to help his campaign to subjugate the entire Pegasus galaxy to his will.

Michael glanced over his shoulder, his head tilted, which McKay took to mean he should continue, so he said, "That equipment… is it there to monitor his vitals, or is it in some way keeping him alive?"

Michael frowned at him, an expression almost of confusion.

"The… stuff… the… thing you keep adjusting there…" he nodded toward the machine beside Michael, since his arms were still held in the restraints.

"For a scientist, Doctor McKay," Michael finally spoke, "you are very imprecise with your vocabulary."

"Oh and suddenly you're the expert on—"

Michael turned around to face the doorway, almost sending Rodney's heart into convulsions, until he saw that two of Michael's soldiers were waiting there.

"Report," Michael snapped.

"The Hives know we are here. They are sending their Darts ahead of them, but they are coming. The Lantean ships also."

"So," Michael nodded to his hybrids. "Once again, Colonel Sheppard seeks to manipulate situations over which he has little or no control; to manipulate my actions and to force my hand."

He turned his head slightly toward Rodney, and McKay realised then that the statement had been for his benefit, rather than that of the hybrids, or mere idle musing.

"Or maybe to rescue the people you _took_ from him," McKay added with heavy sarcasm.

Michael ignored him. Instead he turned back to his hybrids. "You know what to do," he said in a firm and clipped tone to one of them. To the other he said, "Take Doctor McKay to the Launch Bay with the others. I will complete my work here, and join you in the auxiliary control room."

"Wait a minute," McKay started, but the hybrid soldier did not stop. "What do you mean, 'the launch bay'?"

Michael paused in tending once again to Major Lorne and turned to look at him. "You didn't imagine I was going to leave you behind, did you Doctor?"

**

The deck beneath his feet lurched as yet another explosion rocked the Daedalus. It made little difference whether he watched through the view screen or whether he returned to stand near Caldwell so that he could analyse the progress of their F302s against the Wraith ships. The truth remained the same either way. They were as outmanned here in space as they had been on the ground, and the most sensible, tactical decision would have been to get the hell out of there and leave the battle to Michael and the Wraith.

"I won't leave our people behind," he murmured under his breath, speaking to no one but himself.

"Excuse me?" Caldwell asked, frowning in his direction.

Sheppard snapped out of his morbid contemplation and approached the command position on the bridge. Speaking more briskly he said, "We need to target the smaller of the two Hives."

"What? Why?" Caldwell snapped grabbing a hold of the sides of his chair as the bridge shook again.

"Look at the formation of its ships," Sheppard pointed at the heads up. "It's sending in its Darts, it's even committed one of the two cruisers it has along side of it, but it's staying out of the battle."

"Which frankly is a blessing," Caldwell snapped, and as if to prove his objection to the plan that Sheppard was beginning to outline Daedalus pitched wildly under the onslaught of the explosions. Caldwell quickly called out, "Shields?"

"Seventy three percent."

"We're not going to be able to sit here and take much more of this," Caldwell turned his attention back to Sheppard, "And if you pull that Hive into the battle, that's one, potentially two more ships to be shooting at us if they commit the second cruiser as well."

"It won't come to that," Sheppard sighed. "Honestly, with both Hives committing to battle, Michael won't have a choice but to respond."

"He already has," Caldwell's answer held the tired tone of someone explaining something that should have been obvious. "He sent that wave of Darts in to cover his escape. You said yourself, he's not stupid." Caldwell shook his head apologetically, "I have to think about the safety of this ship, John. I'm sorry." Then to his crew he ordered, "Prepare to come about."

"Wait!" Sheppard called out, "Wait," He leaned closer to the command chair, "Colonel, please… stopping Michael from leaving is our first priority; to get our people out safely, and the only way we can do that is to get the other Hive to engage," Sheppard looked at the Daedalus commander imploringly. "With three of us out here cutting off his escape…" he reached out and grasped Steven Caldwell forearm. "…trust me, Michael will have no choice but bring his cruiser into battle."

He locked eyes with the colonel as if he could make the man see the succession of dark thoughts, the succession of his failure to protect those under his command, to whom he had a duty of care, rolling through his mind and influence him with them. He thought of Teyla and her unborn child… of Rodney, Lorne and even Vega, prisoners of Michael and probably being subjected to all kinds of torture.

For what seemed like an age the two of them remained locked in unspoken conversation. Finally Caldwell broke their silence. "Shields?"

"Fifty nine percent."

He nodded resolutely. "Load all forward batteries. Stand by all drones." He glanced at Sheppard. John nodded and a second later, Caldwell ordered, "Take us in. Target the second Hive."

**

Sam couldn't help but grin as one by one the Darts began climbing into the planet's upper atmosphere, leaving them to face only the remaining Wraith on the ground. Whatever he'd done, it seemed that Sheppard's plan was working.

"All units… move in!" she ordered, still having to yell over the noise of the ongoing battles, "Secure the Gate!" She paused only to pull out the empty magazine from her P90 and slap home the replacement, before she raised the weapon and began firing. "Ronon!" she yelled, "We need to get control of the DHD."

"Way ahead of you," he answered, literally leaping toward the Wraith that stood between them and the controls to access the Stargate.

After only a moment, Sam found she had to stop giving the man supporting fire because everywhere she aimed her weapon there he seemed to be. Knife in hand, Ronon lashed out at one, then turned and kicked another who was seeking to rise after an earlier blow, full in the face. It was simply too great a risk to try and fire into the melee without hitting the Satedan himself. She turned her fire instead towards ensuring that no others came to join their Wraith companions in the fierce hand to hand and bloody battle that Ronon fought against them.

For several long minutes she stood hunched over her rattling automatic weapon, taking down any Wraith that even dared to set foot in Ronon's direction, until a roaring growl made her turn again.

Ronon was pinned against the ground by two large Wraith. His feet lashed out toward one of them, seeking a scissor motion that would take the Wraith's feet from under him. But the canny Wraith kept his feet spread, his centre of balance low, and ultimately was not going to be easily moved. The other, however, leaning over Ronon was vulnerable. It wouldn't take much to tip his balance and send him tumbling away from her friend. Without a second thought she set off running and launched herself through the air toward the bending Wraith.

She did not quite expect the Wraith to be as solid as he was and the impact knocked the wind out of her. It also produced the desired result and overbalanced the Wraith, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Already winded, hitting the ground stunned her dangerously, with her head turned toward where Ronon was already gaining the upper hand against the one remaining Wraith. He pulled him down to meet his raised forearm, which he beat repeatedly against the now stumbling warrior's masked face.

A sharp pain in her side broke her stupor. She raised her hands defensively, almost by instinct to catch the wrist of the arm that had begun to descend toward her. In the absence of a weapon, knocked from his grasp when they fell, the Wraith had resorted to instinct of his own.

Her muscles burned as she fought to hold back the Wraith's hand. Every nightmare flashed before her as she twisted and squirmed beneath him, alternately clawing at him and beating him with her free hand. Her fingers encountered flesh and she tore at it; tearing away the mask to reveal the twisted, bloody facelessness beneath, just as the muscles in her arm buckled, and the Wraith's feeding hand struck her shoulder.

A wordless scream bubbled in her throat, gathering an unfulfilled momentum, because as she opened her mouth, a high pitched whine, deafeningly close, drowned out awareness of all else. The side of her face was scorched by an incredible heat, but the Wraith on top of her flew backwards, freeing her to roll aside, and bring up all of her imagined pain, and very real fear into the dirt beside her.

When she could turn her head, she saw Ronon lying on his back, his arm still outstretched, clutching his blaster, breathing hard.

"You all right?" he asked, and it was only then she realised that the sounds of battle around them had dwindled to almost nothing. She nodded wordlessly, emotion threatening to overwhelm her. She heard rather than saw Ronon climb to his feet but even so, almost jumped when he leaned down to take her by the arm and pull her to her own.

"I'm okay," she managed to gasp. "I'm okay." She looked up at him and shook her head as he opened his mouth to speak. After another moment she gave him a gentle push toward where the DHD finally stood open to them. "Dial the Gate."

**

Sleep still hung heavily around her, weighing her feet and making every step an effort. The hybrid soldier that had woken her had barely spoken a word, simply shaken her awake and bidden her to follow him. From what she had managed to work out of the geography of the cruiser, she guessed that she was once more being taken to the launch bay.

She sighed softly and ran a hand across her face. So much had happened. So many things about which she had been certain before were suddenly in flux and it frightened her the way that so many of the things that were nipping at the edges of her conscience called so much into question. Her fear was unsettling the child and the feeling of it was leaving her winded and a little nauseous. Greater even that that was the gnawing doubts growing inside of her that left her feeling vulnerable and lonely; needing of a moment's warmth.

As they approached the junction in the corridors, where they would turn to head toward the launch bay, she saw the figure within the holding cell throw off a coarse blanket and rush forwards. A wiry young woman with dark hair, wearing oversized clothes which had obviously been supplied to her since she arrived on the ship, threaded her arms through the bars of the cell and reached out to her.

"Teyla?" she called, and her voice was full of surprise.

She slowed her steps until she came to a stop, a hand resting protectively over her belly, "I am sorry," she said, "but I do not know you."

"Of course you wouldn't, I… we never met," the woman said, "My name is Alicia. Alicia Vega."

Teyla's frown deepened, and a slight, but definite nagging push filled her with the urge to back away from the woman. She shook her head. She did not recognise the name even though the woman spoke to her as though she should.

"I…" she began, trying to find a way to answer her.

"I'm a captain with the Atlantis expedition."

"Atlantis…?" Teyla blinked, and this time took a step forward, "I am sorry, I did not know—"

"I was brought here along with Doctor McKay and Major Lorne, I… I don't know where they were taken, but—"

Teyla stepped right up to the bars this time, putting some distance between her and her escort. She tipped her head first one way and then the other to check that there was no one coming who would prevent her from speaking with the woman.

"Michael took them to his laboratory." Teyla said. "But please… what of the others? They are coming?"

"What is he doing to them?" The tremor and the horrified tone in the woman's voice was a like a slap to the face. Frowning, her insides twisting into knots, Teyla took a step back. Not far enough, however, as the frightened woman reached out quickly and grabbed her arm. "Please… I need to know."

"Let go, Alicia, you must not—" She pulled against the woman's hand, reaching with her own to try and peel the touch away. "Michael, he—"

Vega held on in spite of her tugging against the contact. The woman shuddered, and tightened her grip at the mention of Michael. "He came…" She whimpered slightly. "He took—"

"Let go of me," Teyla pulled still harder against the touch. "Please, you—"

"He said—"

"I told you that your future is already decided, Captain Vega," Michael announced as he arrived silently.

Teyla closed her eyes in a long, slow blink as he unmasked himself to her and the touch of his mind in hers, reaching for her to calm the disquiet that gripped her as surely as Vega's touch on her arm, became a strength for her. She did not miss, however, the protective edge of his anger at the woman's audacity, and became more than aware of the danger the young woman was putting herself in. Teyla stopped struggling with her, imploring the woman with her eyes to let go of her, feeling Michael slowly approaching.

He stopped just behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him, and raised his hands to barely cup her shoulders and ease her away from the Captain's restraining touch. It fell away from her arm as surely as a leaf from a tree in fall. Teyla did not move far from his side.

"Very wise, Captain," he said in a rumbling, dangerous tone. Then to his soldiers added with more than a little cruel bite in his voice, "Take her."

"No… please…!" Vega backed away from the doors that spiralled open as Michael operated the control. "Teyla, help me, please!"

The comfort and warmth she felt surrounding her burst suddenly, uncertainty, fear and anger falling to drench every part of her in a sudden cold sweat. She half turned and frowned at Michael, taking a step away from him even as Vega tried to avoid his hybrids.

"Where are you taking her?" she demanded.

Michael glanced at her, answering, "She will go with the others." Then he glanced at the hybrid soldier nearby to where Teyla was standing. He moved past her to assist the other in retrieving the captain from the cell.

"Go where?" Vega demanded struggling with them as the soldiers took her by the arms, and all but carried her, crying out in protest for every step they took. "Please… where are you taking me?"

Michael did not answer and Teyla knew she did not stand a chance to stop them. She might have been able to disable one of them… and if she were lucky free the woman so that she could run from the other, but she knew the moment that she moved against either of them, Michael would stop her.

The woman's cries of protest faded and for a moment or two there was silence. Michael turned to her, a tangibly hurt expression on his face. She felt answering tears come into her eyes, even though she tried not to listen to the tumbling emotions inside of her. "What would you have me do?" he asked her at length, "The Hives have found us," he told her, tilting his head, "Lead here by your Lantean friends."

He took another step toward her, but this time, rather than back away again, she took a side step, beginning to circle, "They will never give you a moment's peace, Michael," she said to him. "You know that—"

He shook her head, "It does not matter."

"—especially not so long as I am here," she finished, and this time she did back up a little as he closed the circle toward her.

"Then I ask you again, what would you have me do?"

"Let us go," she told him. "Vega, Doctor McKay, Major Lorne—"

"You must forget the Major," he said, taking another step. "Think of him as… a casualty of war."

She took another step away from him… backed up until she had nowhere left to go; was pressed against the bulkhead. What had happened to the others was all her fault. If she had been more careful, if she had listened to Sam instead of chasing half remembered dreams that she knew now to be a lie she—

"No," Michael told her, taking a halting step towards her. "When I reached out to you there was not a word spoken that was a lie. You _must_ come with me, Teyla. I need—"

She wrapped her arm protectively around her belly, using the fear she had for her son to try and quash all thoughts of the way her stomach suddenly tightened at his words. She cut him off. "He is _my_ child, Michael. I will not allow you to _use_ him."

"Teyla…" A soft voice to the side of the open space made her turn her head. Kanaan stood looking at her, hands by his side, and in one of them he held a weapon. "…please, there's much you don't understand… you must listen to him—"

"Kanaan—?" she started, but her voice cracked and stopped the rest of the sentence before it began.

"—You must go with him," Kanaan continued.

"No, I can't, I—"

"You must." Kanaan said darkly and took a step further into the area. She watched him, tears gathering in her eyes. The conflict inside of her stirred still more deeply as she looked on the man who had once been her closest childhood friend. Never would she have imagined she could have gone so far as to cross such a line.

She sensed the change in the feeling coming from Michael in the same moment that the background hum of the ship changed the way it vibrated through her contact with the bulkhead. A smouldering anger, mixed with resigned longing washed over her. Michael took another step toward her, and with nowhere to go, she started to raise her hands, meaning to fend him off.

"We don't have time for this," he told her, suddenly reaching forward, "It's not safe here. We _must_ go."

"No!" She lashed out as he reached for her and on pure reflex he blocked the blow, and took another step toward her as she growled, "I will not—"

The pain was only fleeting - a burning heat that began somewhere in her chest as the rhythm of her heart faltered. It spread outwards through all of her limbs, draining her strength. She managed to turn her head toward a sound she had barely registered – high pitched and harsh. Kanaan still stood with his weapon raised, and pointed in her direction.

"No… Kanaan," she whispered, and as the blue lights of the cruiser began to darken around her, she reached for the one person who had only ever been true to his words to her.

Michael caught her flailing hand and guided it to his shoulder as his arm came around her, supportive and strong. He gently lowered her to the deck and did not let go of her.

She took strength from his mind too, from the connection they shared and from the burning fury that bubbled inside… anything was preferable to the blackness of her own feeling of betrayal. No sooner she reached for his mind, however, than Michael pushed away his anger to support her with resolve of a different kind, holding onto her consciousness with his own.

She whispered his name.

_-Don't speak-_

"That was unnecessary," he was still angry. His tone clipped.

_-You're safe-_

"She would have fought you," Kanaan's voice held none of the warmth she remembered from their childhood, their friendship. "I know Teyla."

"You overreach yourself!" Michael snapped, his voice a whip this time. "Go and join the others. You have work to do."

"Michael…" she whispered, and tried to move her hand along his shoulder, to touch his cheek, but as she tried, he slowly released his hold on her consciousness. Her hand slipped and fell across his arm as he gently picked her up. She barely registered their movement as he carried her from the area.

**

"The larger Hive is almost in range of the moon," the Con. Officer's voice broke in on the tension on the bridge. "Second cruiser is moving in."

"Whoever's in command of this Hive, he's not falling for it, Sheppard." Caldwell raised his voice to cut through the noise of the many alarms that were sounding on the bridge.

"Shields are at thirty seven percent," the gunner called out.

"We have to withdraw, if you want to get our people out, we have to make sure there's a ship to get them out _with_." Caldwell turned in his seat and Sheppard looked up from trying to operate a fire extinguisher with just one hand.

He swore. He'd been certain the Wraith commander would follow them and engage his Hive in the battle. He'd been certain the prestige of being the one to take out the shame that Michael was to the Wraith would have been too much to resist. Caldwell was right… and he'd screwed up, and now they had to hurry to protect Michael's cruiser for long enough to get their two-man team aboard, take out the comm. array, and beam their people off the ship. He swore again, and kicked the bulkhead wall.

Caldwell evidently took that for assent because in the next moment he began calling out his orders, "Aft shields to maximum. Get us out of here. Doctor Zelenka?"

"Colonel?"

"Is there anything you can do to boost shields?"

Zelenka thought for a moment or two before he said, "Well, if I could reroute the power from the—"

"I don't need an explanation, Doctor. Just get it done."

"Right, I—" Zelenka pointed ahead of himself before he hurried off the bridge.

**

Perhaps it was the sound of the alarms that woke her, or the way the ship bucked beneath her, but the moment she opened her eyes, she felt Michael turn away from the console in the auxiliary control room and come to her, where she lay on one of the benches there at the side of the room. He steadied her as she sat up slowly, and then held something out in her direction. She looked up into the concern she saw on his face.

"Drink this," he told her softly, "It will help to ease your head."

"What is happening?" she asked him, grimacing at the taste of the liquid in the small tumbler he gave her. He reached to take it back from her and set it aside. "I am cold."

She wrapped her arms around herself, but he was already reaching for the blanket beside her even as he answered, "It is the effect of the stunner. It will pass."

As he tucked the blanket around her, she reached up to catch his hand, pressing her chilled palm to the back, and curling her fingertips over the side of his hand.

He took in a breath sharply, let it out slowly, and said, "Teyla…"

"Michael," she said, her eyes moistened even as she began to speak. Everything of the last few hours came flooding back. Her chest tightened in the makings of a sob and the solitude, the deepest need for simple human comfort threatened to break her apart. "What is to happen—?"

"Soon we will leave," he said, his eyes on her hand, joined with his. "It will not be much longer."

_Worry, the need for a place of safety for her and for the child to come. Wrapping his strength and his protection around the both of them—_

The thought cut off abruptly. "I am… afraid," she said, and as she blinked, the tears she had fought so hard to contain since she was first brought to his ship, rolled down her cheek. One of them fell to splash against their hands.

He frowned, and looked up, tilting his head, and then almost hesitantly reached out toward the moisture on her cheek. "I have told you, Teyla. I will not allow any harm to come to you."

"Then please…" She closed her eyes and drew in a soft gasp as the tips of his fingers finally grazed against her cheekbone. She tilted her head and almost leaned into the touch, the breath she took shook as she exhaled. Her lower lip trembled with the press of her emotion and she whispered, "…Michael, h—"

The ship tilted suddenly, violently. She gripped his hand more tightly and he caught her closer to him to stop the explosion that had rocked the ship from spilling her to the floor.

"There is no more time," he said, and freeing his hand from hers, he took her by the shoulders and all but lifted her to her feet. From out of nowhere, one of his hybrids appeared at his shoulder. Michael took the blanket from her and pushed her slightly, guiding her toward the soldier as he came forward. "Go with him. He will take you to my ship."

"But you—"

Michael took little notice of her objection. He addressed his soldiers. "You each know what to do," and then to the soldier standing at her side he said, "Take her."

The hybrid gripped her upper arm and led her quickly from the control room and into the launch bay. She looked back over her shoulder, to see Michael working, an almost fervent expression on his face.

It did not take long to reach the scout ship that Michael had adapted to his personal needs, though it took longer for her to clamber inside. The deck rocked again beneath them and she almost slipped, but the hybrid caught her, steadied her, and she was able to climb aboard.

She turned her head to watch as several others took their places in the launch bay and the control room, then felt, and heard Michael move to address them, though she could not see.

"Status?" he demanded.

The hybrid at the tactical controls answered, "The Lantean ship that was attacking the Queen's Hive has withdrawn. One of the two cruisers is heavily damaged. It has lost hyperdrive and is venting atmosphere."

"Well, then, let's finish it." Michael said, his voice as deadly as she had ever heard. The hybrids, who had been standing almost in formation in the launch bay each turned and headed for the many Darts his ship carried.

**

Summoned from his research by the call of his fellow Wraith on the bridge, he walked quickly through the corridors of the cruiser. It had taken many years to perfect the technology they were about to use, and he was insistent that it would be he that would strike the killing blow… not the least of it to get the undeniably beautiful, but equally as demanding and deadly Queen off his back. He commanded his own Hive, and did not need the interference of a Queen in his plans. He suffered the alliance only for the resources her Hive could provide for his research.

He sighed. News travels quickly in a race of telepaths and he had known that, sooner or later, one of the remaining Queens would recognise his skills, his usefulness and approach him with the suggestion of such an alliance. He had not expected it would be this one, but, since it was, and he had little by way of a reason to refuse without arousing suspicion, he had agreed, and then had watched in mounting disquiet as little by little, what had begun as an alliance slowly became subjugation, as more and more of his Hive Brothers were subsumed by the Elder Queen. Still… soon now…

_~report~_

He came to know that the Lantean warship, with her shields failing, had been forced to withdraw. The Abomination's cruiser was moving from behind the moon and that many more of his Darts had been launched and were heading into the battle against several targets, though mainly against the Hives. He paused as he reached the controls of the new weapon and tilted his head; curious… so he had been wrong… the Abomination did not intend to hide behind the Humans and their ships.

"Survival of the fittest," he crooned, speaking to no one but himself, "Good…" he watched dispassionately as the enemy unleashed a devastating salvo against the cruiser alongside his own. He saw the chain reaction begin to spread through the cruiser's systems and then activated his own enhanced shielding as the ship succumbed to the onslaught and sent out a deadly shockwave that consumed many of the smaller ships, like ashes in its wake.

He moved the targeting scanner of the Cascade Beam weapon to pinpoint the communications centre of the Abomination's cruiser. He knew that in the wake of the explosion the sensors would be less than accurate, and probably would not register that the ship was being targeted, and warn the operator in time for them to take evasive action.

With a strength of conviction he moved his hand over the controls and gave the combined physical and mental command to fire the weapon.

**

"It's confirmed," the gunner announced as the sensors cleared, "Michael's target is destroyed…"

"And the Darts?" Sheppard asked. Even though he was used to reading a tactical heads up display, he was finding it difficult to follow the many symbols that showed each of the sides of the battle.

"Heading for the Hives." the man confirmed Sheppard's suspicions. "Probably trying to force them to leave."

"And our Jumper?"

"Heading for—" a bright flash from the forward view screen cut off the gunner's report.

"What the hell was that?" Caldwell demanded.

"I have no idea," Sheppard answered, "but it can't be good."

"It came from the remaining Wraith cruiser, Sir," the gunner reported, "and whatever it is, it's heading directly for Michael."

"Open a channel to our Jum—" Caldwell ordered.

"Belay that," Sheppard snapped almost before the colonel had the words out. "We do that we'll give away their position, and we still need them to board Michael's ship and take out the array."

"When that thing hits, who's to say there'll be anything left of Michael's ship or our people?" Caldwell snapped in response, and Sheppard shivered, watching as the stream of energy closed the final distance to Michael's ship.

**

Teyla shifted uncomfortably as she waited in the scout ship. A part of her wanted to climb back out and investigate why she felt such concern, almost fear, coming from Michael… but another part of her knew that she had to stay where she was; that something was going to happen, and would happen soon, and suddenly, and she had to be ready…

She reached out to his mind…

_…Michael… _

_-timing is critical-_

She saw the sensor readings through his eyes, and though she could make sense of little, she did identify that a large amount of a very powerful, very bright energy was heading straight for the ship. She felt the pull of the controls, the restraint with which he held himself… concentration incarnate, even with her so connected to him as she was now, and even with the two of the remaining hybrids moving to his side.

She held her breath… the beam, she knew, meant death, and there was barely a breath between the forward edge of it and the ship…

**

Under his breath, Sheppard muttered, "Come on, Michael, don't just sit there," hardly believing those words would be coming out of his mouth.

He closed his eyes as the beam reached Michael's ship and the shield around the cruiser flared brightly. He wished he could shut his ears just as easily as the gunner's voice rang out over the bridge.

"Oh my God—"

His heart sank; shrivelled. He'd gambled and he'd lost. So many lost to save so few, but on his team, so long as he was the military commander, no one was left behind. No one.

"—it's holding!"

"What!" his eyes snapped open and he peered at the heads up, but even as he looked it fizzled into darkness, no longer receiving data from the sensors.

"What the hell just happened?" Caldwell snapped.

"Sorry, Colonel," the gunner said, "Whatever Michael did, it took out our sensors."

Sheppard abandoned the technology in favour of good, old-fashioned eyesight and watched in fascination as the beam, somehow reflected from Michael's shields, undulated, wavelike, toward the Wraith cruiser. He had to, albeit grudgingly, admire Michael's ingenuity. Worrying, however, was the fact that Darts in the near vicinity of the energy wave were, apparently spontaneously, blooming into rich explosions.

"Get our fighters out of there," he turned and ordered the Con. Officer.

"No can do, Sir," the man reported, "It took out communications as well."

"Zelenka!"

"Already on it." The scientist dashed from one side of the bridge to the other. "From the data we captured just before the sensors went down, it's possible that Michael reconfigured his shield harmonics to interfere with the energy of the beam."

Sheppard almost started to feel better with the explanation he could, at least in general if not the specifics of the matter, understand.

"The trouble is, doing that has disrupted the subspace carrier wave on which most of our sensors and communications rely." Zelenka concluded.

"You always have to go and spoil a good explanation with scientific mumbo-jumbo." he complained cheerfully. "Can you fix it?"

"I should be able to reconfigure our communications array to compensate," Zelenka said, "Yes."

**

She did not physically need to be on the bridge to see what was happening in battle. She heard it all, and saw as the bridge crew saw, if she so wished. But somehow that made it all so remote… so distant.

They moved aside for her as she swept into their midst, gave up the position from which the most could be seen, and moved to control the Hive from auxiliary consoles. She watched, Dart against Dart… against the human ships, all seeking the same… victory… dominion.

He was ready. She could feel his surprise that the Unclean One had ceased to hide behind his Lantean progenitors – no… not surprise. Elation. She tilted her head a hissed, long and low. It would prove the death of him. Either that or it would prove him worthy, and she was not yet sure which.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, focussing… concentrating… eager for the outcome to be known… pushing just enough against the barrier she found in the heart of the network of minds to be able to feel the anger – the betrayal and to taste the hurt of it…

Her eyes snapped open suddenly. Something was wrong. Some part of the Hive around her was unclean… contaminated…

_=Breached… Fools, we have been breached=_

Immediately the shrill screech of the alarm began to sound, but already it was too late. The pain of the damage to the Hive flowed through her as the foreign Dart fired its weapons in the heart of her landing bay, even as her own Darts rose to her defence.

This could not happen… must not be allowed. She was vulnerable here… they must protect the Hive. She felt the ship turn in answer to her silent command; felt the surge and the answering pull of the inertial dampening field as they accelerated toward the opening hyperspace window…

**

Zelenka stood over the open drawer, moving around the lighted control crystals, before attaching his computer tablet to a number of points within. His fingers moved rapidly over the keys as he said, "After I have reconfigured the array we should—"

"Colonel Sheppard!" The gunner paled as the sensor telemetry flicked back into view on the heads up.

"What?" Sheppard rushed back to sweep his eyes over the display. Seeing nothing that could have evoked such a reaction in the seasoned officer, he repeated, "What?"

"I have a lock."

John Sheppard frowned in confusion and was about to ask the man for clarification, when Colonel Caldwell snapped, "What are you talking about?"

"Our people. It's just one signal but—"

"That means the beam took out Michael's shields and jamming capabilities," Sheppard skidded to a halt behind the gunner, trying to see just whose subcutaneous transmitter they had found.

Not that it mattered, not to him, and not to Caldwell who ordered quickly, "Take us in, fast. Shields to maximum."

**

Teyla braced herself against the sides of the scout ship as the cruiser shook from yet another explosion. Her back ached terribly and no matter which way she tried to sit in the restrictive seat of the scout ship, nothing brought relief. She looked around toward the control room and even across the distance could see the open concern etched onto Michael's face.

She felt him, waiting… poised and watchful and her own muscles tensed in response to the control by which he held his to stillness. As the ship pitched again from another explosion, this one somewhere deep within the cruiser itself, her belly twisted, tensing in worry. She folded her arms across her torso, deeply afraid for her child.

_-as soon as it is safe we will leave-_

Safe to leave? She did not understand how it could not be safer to leave than to stay.

His confidence of that flooded through her, warming her, insulating her from the fear. She still did not understand, but in that moment it did not matter.

"As soon as we're clear, target the remaining Hive. Force them to make the jump to hyperspace," she heard Michael instruct the one hybrid that remained in the control room.

"I understand," he said, dispassionately.

With the two remaining soldiers at his side, Michael turned and started toward the waiting ships. They were half way across the launch bay when the cruiser rattled in the aftermath of another explosion that was beginning to tear the cruiser apart.

Pain, sudden, deep and penetrating tightened the ache from her back like a vice around her middle. It was brief, fleeting, but unmistakable.

Michael's head snapped up and back to capture her with his eyes, burning now in deep concern that was coloured with his anger toward the Lanteans.

_They were the cause of this added danger to her now. But for their interference she would be settled and safe in the facility he had chosen for this, not fleeing from the midst of battle at such a time. _

"Protect her. Protect the child," he ordered the hybrids who would pilot the Darts. Then he began to quickly climb aboard his ship.

_…Michael…_

She could not contain the sob as she mentally called out for him. She closed her eyes and tried to will her body into acquiescence, holding her arms tightly around herself.

_…my son ~ my child, please wait…_

"Teyla, look at me."

"Michael," she sobbed his name, but shook her head in refusal to follow his command. "My child… my baby is coming."

_-Look at me- -at me- -me-_

Under the press of his mind she raised her head and opened her eyes to fall into the almost luminous gold. He drew her deeper, surrounding her, possessing her.

_-Trust me- -trust me- -trust-_

She began to feel heavy, a deep lethargy covering her like a blanket and she had to fight to keep her eyes open. Events blurred. She barely felt the sharpness of the needle as he fixed an intravenous line into her forearm, nor the movement of his hands as he settled her properly into the flight seat and fastened the harness around her.

The nausea at the sudden rush of speed and light against the artificial gravity of the ship and the abrupt freefall into the darkness of space, lit only by the flash of battle around them, became a half remembered memory. Only the promise remained.

_-I will protect you. No matter what, I will protect you both- -protect you both- -protect-_

**

He could almost taste the anticipation as the Cascade Beam raced across the distance between his cruiser and that of the Abomination. He mentally counted the seconds until with an almost snarling hiss he watched the shields of the other cruiser flare brightly. Any moment they would collapse inward. The energy of the beam would feed back through the nodes that generated the shields and would disable them and the comm. array and would send a cascading overload throughout all the systems of the ship, destroying it from the inside out and there would be nothing to be done to prevent it.

Seconds passed and a frown, born of confusion, found its way to his face as his sensors failed, the chatter of Dart telemetry falling silent on the bridge. He grasped the controls, letting his mind fall into oneness with the cruiser's interface and ran a diagnostic program to try and find the cause of the failure. As the answer came to him the blood in his veins chilled and slowed.

"That's not possible," he said aloud, and abandoned his position to race to the forward viewing port. Even before he saw the leading edge of the approaching wave, he felt the cold touch of a thought inside his head that did not come from any one of his brothers.

_-Did you think I would forget?-_

Even if they moved now the wave would still strike them, and even a glancing blow would doom them to the same cascade of critical systems failure with which he had intended to destroy the Abomination's cruiser. In fact, he through wryly, the enhanced shields on his own ship would serve only to create a larger cascade and faster destruction. He set his steps quickly for the launch bay. He had to return to the Hive… and the Hive had to withdraw.

**

"Time?" Caldwell asked.

"We'll be in range in twenty seconds," the Con. Officer reported.

"Better hope the ship lasts that long," Sheppard said darkly. What had begun as elation had turned to worry when the explosions within Michael's cruiser started to become more evident. Eruptions of fire burst from parts of the ship to light up the surrounding space, blood red. "You still have a lock?"

"We still have a lock."

"Still just the one?"

"Just Lorne, Sir." the Con. Officer confirmed, "I'm sorry."

Sheppard shook his head, it wasn't all right, so he didn't pretend that it was, but if they could bring even one of their people back, it went some way to making something positive out of this whole sorry mess.

"A ship just launched from the Wraith cruiser, Sir," the gunner said.

"Ah, let it go," Sheppard said irritably, dismissive. "Probably just their commander bailing 'cause he knows his ship is sinking."

"Sir," the Con. Officer turned his head to Caldwell, "We're in range."

"Get him out of there," Caldwell ordered.

The answering column of white light resolved itself into the supine form of the Major. As soon as he was aboard, his body began jerking in distress, a terrible gurgling coming from his throat as though he was drowning.

"Get a medical team!" Sheppard all but threw himself at Lorne, Colonel Caldwell at his side, both of them doing what little he could to support him until the medics could reach him. He barely registered the rest of the frantic conversation on the bridge as the deck bucked beneath him.

"Sir, we just lost shields," the gunner announced. "Michael's ship is going critical."

"Get us the hell out of here," Caldwell snapped over his shoulder. "Recall the 302s. As soon as they're aboard, get us clear and make the jump to hyperspace. We're done."

They moved aside to let the ship's doctor get to Lorne, to lift him, still convulsing, onto the gurney and rush him to the infirmary. Sheppard watched the corridor long after his subordinate officer had disappeared, in good hands even while he was in bad shape. Behind him the main screen became awash with the yellows and reds, as first Michael's cruiser, still firing its last toward the nearby Wraith Hive ship, and then, as the shockwave reached it, the Wraith cruiser, disintegrated into flaming masses of semi-organic matter.

**

He veered away from his dying cruiser, first toward the planet's atmosphere, to use it to protect him from the shockwave. As close as he was, if it caught him, he would be incinerated, just like the rest of the Darts caught in battle near the cruisers. At least they'd managed to stop the Abomination's cruiser from reaching the Hive, but it was small comfort. All it meant was that he would have to face the Queen with yet another failure.

He was forced to pull up sharply as three ships cut across his path. Two Darts and a Scout ship screamed into view, and even as he pulled up, one of them rolled, starting to come about to face his ship.

"So you really mean to finish it," he purred, and quickly activated his own weapons, firing even before the other ship had finished its roll. "Then we shall…"

He banked aside as first one, and then the other ships, turned as well and returned fire. The Darts tried to pull up and get behind him. He too pulled back, firing again toward the three ships now closing again into formation, but the manoeuvre brought him dangerously close to the edge of the atmosphere, and into the path of the remnants of the shockwave from the explosion. It sent him spinning sideways, still firing as he spun.

For several moments he fought to bring his ship under control, expecting at any moment to hear the roar of another explosion, and then oblivion… but as his wild spinning slowed, a smile of satisfaction crossed his face. One of his wild shots had found its mark, and sent at least one of the ships spiralling down toward the planet. Of the other two, there was no sign… unless of course you counted the debris that floated almost lazily past his sensors.

He harrumphed softly to himself, a reminder not to become too complacent. Not for the first time had the Wraith believed themselves free of this particular individual. Then he turned once more, and dodging the remains of the battle, between the Lantean's and his Wraith brothers, headed back to his Hive.

**

**Act 5**

They'd barely taken the time to freshen up before they gathered in the briefing room. Taking stock was always difficult after a mission of this kind, but knowing how many they'd lost to the Wraith made it all so much worse.

"So you're saying the Wraith have some kind of new super-weapon," Sam sighed and leaned on her hand.

"They certainly have the technology," Radek answered, glancing at the empty seat beside him, "I'm still trying to analyse what little data we were able to gather."

"Look", Sheppard cut in, "we still don't know if they have it deployed in more than just the single ship. And that one's gone."

"What's your point, John?" Sam asked him.

"That we're worrying about the wrong thing. We know that Michael launched a number of ships before—"

"Sheppard," Caldwell cut him off. "Sooner or later, as painful as it is, we're going to have to face facts. They were prisoners and you don't put prisoners on board fighters you send into battle. You just don't."

"What's _your_ point, _Colonel_?" Sheppard snapped.

"They're gone." Caldwell said bitterly. "McKay, Vega… Teyla… and Lorne is barely hanging on." As if to soften the blow he added more gently, "The best we can say is that it was fast. That—"

The sound of the alarm cut him off and they all looked expectantly toward the control room as the technician called, "Unscheduled off-world activation."

He raced past the others to lean on the back of the technician's chair. His shoulder throbbed in protest, but Sheppard used the pain to focus. The others gathered. Ronon paced behind them as the minutes passed by with no signal.

"Anything?" Sam asked.

"Nothing." The technician shook his head. "No transmission, no IDC, just…" he shrugged, "Dead air."

"Just… lower the shield." Sheppard grimaced at the technician's choice of words. "If it's one of the others they might not be _able_ to send and IDC," he argued urgently.

"And if it's the Wraith," Caldwell put in, "they may just be counting on that."

"But if it's one of our people…" Sheppard didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. He knew that the image of what would happen was firmly fixed in all their brains.

"John," Sam said softly, "The shield is there for a reason. If we—"

"Wait," the technician interrupted, "I'm receiving…"

"What?" Sam asked.

"Well… I'm not sure." He pointed to a diagnostic computer that was still attached to the dialling controls. It has been there since before the mission to rescue Teyla began.

Sheppard frowned as he watched. The waveform that was monitoring the stability of the wormhole fluctuated and changed. It wasn't much, barely a hundredth of… whatever unit was represented by the strange symbol on the side of the graph, but it was still changing, and in a pattern that was repeated.

"Sam, you'd better take a look at this." He pulled her around to the computer screen, and she frowned as she looked.

"Whoever it is, is manipulating the subspace radiation emitted by the wormhole," she began after studying it for a while. "Point oh six, point oh four, point oh three…"

"Six, four, three…" Sheppard began to recite the numbers over and over again, "Six, four, three… Six, four, three… Six, four, three…"

"HGH6439T," he and Sam recited the password together in excitement after a moment.

"It's McKay," Sam went on urgently, "Lower the shield!"

Each of them hurried down the steps to the Gate room and barely seconds after the shield phased out of existence, Rodney McKay staggered from the wormhole.

"Oh thank God," he said, before his knees started to give out under him.

Sheppard caught him by the arm, meaning to hold him up. It seemed to rouse him.

"Ow, ow, ow," he moaned, "Gash there… ow!"

"Rodney, what happened?" Sam asked.

"What about Vega," Sheppard asked at the same time, "Teyla?"

"I don't know," McKay answered, pain and exhaustion colouring his voice. "There were ships, he… we…"

"Give the guy a break," Ronon cut it, but Rodney went on anyway.

"He put us on board ships, at least Vega and me. Teyla he…"

"What?" Sheppard asked frowning darkly.

"Well he kept her with him, but…"

"But what?" The frustration he felt at McKay's halting explanation of what Michael had done with Teyla made him harsher than he would ordinarily have been.

"But they were getting his ship ready too, so—"

"—so there's a good possibility that she's alive," Sheppard finished with a triumphant glare at Caldwell, as he metaphorically thumbed his nose at the man.

"Rodney, how did you get away?"

"I… Considering the Dart I was in was crashed nearby to where I came round, I can only assume that the beaming technology malfunctioned on impact. The pilot was dead, so…" McKay swayed, as if the mention of the hybrid soldier reminded him of his ordeal and it was all too much for him.

"McKay?" Ronon caught him.

"I think," he said in a strange and almost squeaky voice, "I'm just going to pass out now, all right?"

**

A scuffle by the doorway to the laboratory made him look up from watching the simulation he was running.

_=You said your work would be easier with subjects on which to experiment=_

The Queen strode in to his demesne, trailing her fingers over the many instruments and vials as she came. Behind her pairs of Warriors dragged between them three unconscious figures.

_~Where did you find them?~_

He lifted the head of one of the prisoners, staring with near revulsion at the almost human faces – the traces of Wraith ancillary features, and engorged veins, clear on their pallid skin.

_=fascinating, isn't it?=_

She ignored the question of where they came from, and began probing in his mind for his scientific opinion.

_~they will be most helpful, I'm sure~_

He too sidestepped the question. He was unwilling to disclose his true feelings and moved to another of the prisoners slumped between the warriors.

The Queen let out a small sound, almost a chuckle, amused, he knew, by his attempts to keep himself guarded. She thought he revealed himself in his reticence; that he revealed the same contempt that most of his Wraith brothers held for these creatures and he was content for her to believe that. Then he bristled when her thoughts shifted to examine his memory of what had happened on the cruiser, when he had been outsmarted by the Abomination.

He moved to the last of the prisoners she brought him and wound his hand almost angrily into the long dark hair, to pull back the head and study the hybrid subject as he had the others, but instead he frowned in confusion.

Hissing, alerted by his surprise, the Queen swung around to face him and stalked back to his side. She leaned down to grasp the prisoner's chin and tip her head still further back. She, as he had, peered at the face, turning it first one way, and then the other. She searched for any trace of the characteristic features of the hybrids, and finding none let out a long, slow breath that came out as a dangerous hiss, before she ran her fingertips over the unblemished face of the young human woman.

**

"Doctor Keller?" Sam called her name as she, along with Ronon and Colonel Sheppard entered the infirmary. "You wanted to see us."

"Sorry to call you so late," she said, straightening up from the electron microscope. It was well after three in the morning, Atlantis Standard time. "But this couldn't wait."

"What is it? Is something wrong?" Sam asked.

Jennifer watched in almost strange fascination as the frown spread from person to person, first Sam, then Ronon and finally Colonel Sheppard.

"Rodney?" she said by way of a non answer, "Are you sleeping?"

"Are you kidding?" he came right back at her, his voice as testy as ever, and she made a mental note to discharge him in the morning. "With you walking to and fro and your technicians prodding and poking at me every five minutes?"

"Nurses, McKay," Ronon said quietly, "They're called nurses."

"Whatever, look, the point is: I'm awake." He sat up and came over to join them. "So what is it?"

"It's Major Lorne," Jennifer said quietly, the smile she would have made at the banter between McKay and Ronon dying on her face.

Mistaking what she was about to say, Sam said softly, "I'm sure you did everything that you could Doctor."

"No, no, no," she said, "you don't understand."

She paused, having no idea how to say what she needed to tell them. She took several breaths and looked between each of them, almost as if she could will one of them to guess and save her the difficult task of breaking the news. When none did, she was forced to go on and make her report.

"Given the information I was sent from the medics on the Daedalus, I honestly didn't expect him to make it to us," she said quietly and let out a sigh. "He not only made it, but when he arrived his sats were incredible. He was dehydrated, sure, but there was no sign of the internal bleeding they reported, or the head injury or…" she stopped and said, "…well you get the point. No sign of anything, really, and certainly no reason for him to still be as deeply unconscious as he is."

"So what's the problem?" Sheppard asked, obviously confused.

"When his blood pressure spiked a couple of hours ago, I thought maybe some kind of infection, something we'd missed in the initial bloodwork. So I took another sample for comparison." She nodded to the microscope behind her.

"Oh, God no," Sheppard moaned, "Not more nanites?"

"No, Colonel," Keller answered. "Not more nanites. I wish it were?"

"What then?" McKay asked, and she could see that the colour was already draining from his face as though he knew what she was about to tell them.

"I had to pull the file to be sure," Keller said, "but I found a high concentration of a drug which bore a frighteningly uncanny similarity to Doctor Beckett's retrovirus in the Major's blood."

"What do you mean, _similarity_?" Ronon asked, frowning.

"I mean it's a drug that could have been based off the same research, though it's entirely more stable. It's Wraith in origin. So I looked deeper." She looked around at the Major and said softly, "Major Lorne has been exposed to Michael's retrovirus. His cells are mutating and have already been subsumed by a high concentration of Wraith DNA. For the last two hours I've been administering the strongest NRTI drugs we possess, but it's hardly slowing it. Without help…" she swallowed hard, watching the realisation dawn on them all, before she finished, "Lorne is going to become one of his hybrids."

_Fin_

**Author's Note:** If you've enjoyed reading this, please review. As it says in the description for this story, this is the first 'episode' in a virtual season 5 that I began writing before the real season 5's first episode went to air. There are already 5 episodes up on my website, and although I will eventually get around to posting them here, it will have to be in a heavily edited for because of rating restrictions. If you want to read them in their original form (as this one is), then the website address is

Thanks for reading. Your interest is very much appreciated.


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